Shush, Little Bird
by Vivat Musa
Summary: Night had just fallen. Not a soul was in sight this evening…a perfect night. Or so it was... A secret lust for revenge spurs a kidnapping of two residents of Castanet Island. The captives' friends search relentlessly for them, but a misunderstanding turns them against one another. Who is the mastermind behind this abduction? Will the captives ever be freed?
1. Prologue: A Fortune Told

**Shush, Little Bird**

**A Harvest Moon: Animal Parade story**

**By, Vivat Musa**

**Disclaimer: I do now own the rights to Harvest Moon or its characters.**

**Author's Note: Hello and welcome to my new story, "Shush, Little Bird"! A fair warning to my previous readers: the updates for this may take longer than usual since I'm currently working on some other projects (where before I usually just have one major work in progress), but I'm feeling pretty confident about this story so far.**

**Just wanted to clear that up. Anyways, I won't bore you with a long note. Please read on and I hope you enjoy the story!**

A hand drew back the faded curtain, which spewed a puff of dust whenever disturbed. An eye the color of gold and an eye the color of emeralds—one to see the natural, and the other to see the supernatural—peered down at Castanet. Night had just fallen. The world was silent as the villagers scurried into their homes with promises of warmth to keep the frigid weather at bay. Not a soul was in sight this evening…a perfect night.

Gale pulled back his hand, and the curtain fell into place over the windowpane. A sensation of freedom made him stand a little straighter, raise his head a little higher; it felt like a heavy cloak had just been removed from his shoulders. During the day, Gale was an unsociable fortuneteller to Castanet's villagers, nothing more than a mere human like the rest of them. But at night, when everyone was fast asleep, the immortal could shed all false pretenses and become what he truly was: a Wizard.

Without careful eyes, it was almost impossible to see how the Wizard's feet never touched the floor when he glided through the wide room. In the center of his house was a square table big enough to seat only two. On it were a handful of items stacked on top of one another. First came neatly spread out purple cloth with its ends brushing the floor. Next a small plush pillow placed in the center. Gently set into this cushion was the last and most precious item: a crystal ball.

Most people would see this ball as a clear piece of glass, ordinary in every way. But, like most things, it needed only the right touch to transform into something magical. After all, isn't magic—like beauty—dependent on the eye of the beholder? And some people just have a better eye for things than others.

A half a dozen narrow candles were arranged in a semi-circle around the crystal ball. With a wave of Gale's hand the candles were lit, their flames illuminating the room. The wizard sat down in the chair facing the doorway. He reached underneath the table and retrieved a pouch with runes and spells embroidered into the cloth. He could feel the ground Fugue Mushrooms from within shifting in his hand, the fine grains tumbling and readjusting themselves into tiny hills. It felt much lighter than he remembered.

Gale sighed. He was once again running low again. It had been easier to collect the magical fungi when there was no competition, but that had changed a few seasons ago when Molly returned the Witch Princess to her original form. Those peaceful hours where the Wizard could take his time strolling through the forest and forage for the daily Fugue Mushroom were gone. Now every day was a competition between him and the Witch Princess to see who will get the mushroom first.

A frown crossed Gale's face. He tried not to think about _her_ whenever possible.

The powder easily parted when he grabbed a handful of the substance. Gale raised his fist over the crystal ball and let the powder sprinkle through his fingers. The showering particles stuck to the clear surface like glitter sticking to glue. Then each one burst into crackling spectacles of light, reflecting off the glass in rays. It wasn't long before the entire orb was covered in these shining fragments. It was like a sun trapped on the planet it's obligated to give life to.

Wizard knew what came next.

He closed his eyes right before the sun exploded in a harsh blinding light, banishing every shadow from within the house. If the curtains were not drawn (and a concealment spell had not been cast), the building could've been mistaken as a lighthouse from the outside. When the brightness faded from his eyelids, he opened them. While his mortal eye still had to adjust to the darkness, his golden eye could pick out each shadowy detail in precision.

In front of him was the crystal ball, still ordinary in every way except for one hard-to-ignore detail. The blinding glow had been sucked into the center of the orb, and was now suspended as a pinpoint of pure light. Gale watched it for a moment before leaning close, his breath fogging the glass, and whispered, _"Revelare."_

Instantly the light became agitated, shaking erratically, before turning darker and indistinct. Soon its brightness was gone, replaced by a thick, gray, undulating fog that quickly expanded. Craving more room to grow, it swelled until it was pressing against the walls of its unyielding crystal prison. Wizard waited for the struggle to end. When the fog finally accepted that its barrier wouldn't relent, it collapsed into itself with a groan, becoming smaller and smaller until it was a fixed size. The gray clouds were now just a single churning mass within the crystal ball.

In a stronger voice, Gale commanded again, _"Revelare!"_

This time the fog did not respond in any rapid actions. Instead it changed in subtle, unhurried movements, like a bud gradually transforming into a flower. Gale scrutinized the fog's barely perceptual motions with the eye of a specialist. It stretched itself until the smoky tendrils grazed the top and bottom of the crystal ball. Then sections of the middle began to dissipate until vanishing completely, leaving behind a bizarre pattern of semisolid stripes. Then the upper and lower part of the fog thickened like a base.

The form was still too vague to accurately guess what the crystal ball was trying to reveal. Nevertheless, the countless possibilities were already racing through the Wizard's mind.

A house, perhaps?

No, that's not it…

A basket?

It could be possible…

_Knock-knock-knock!_

Gale's concentration shattered. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply. When he let the air out, all of the candles were simultaneously extinguished with the sharp scent of smoke, shrouding the room in darkness. The crystal ball and its prediction were lost from sight.

If the knock had not come, if Gale had stayed just a moment longer, he would have seen the magical fog transform into a shape that would leave no doubt of its identity: a cage.

But he did not.

Lowering the precautionary spells, Gale glided to the door. When he pulled the door ajar, a rush of chilly air brushed back his cape. He mumbled in a monotone, "The fortuneteller is closed for the evening. Please return tomorrow at—" The words died on his lips. For the first time in years, astonishment widened his multi-colored eyes.

_"You."_

A calm voice as smooth as honey answered him, "Hello, Wizard. Surprised, are you?"

"You must go." Gale's face twisted into an uncharacteristic snarl. Already the beginnings of a defensive spell formed in his mind, but his visitor was one step ahead of him. Before his spell was finished, a pale finger pointed at his chest. An incomprehensible whisper, soft and haunting like a ghostly wind, was uttered.

The last thing Gale saw was an unearthly light coming to consume him.

**Okay, some of you who have read my previous story probably know what I'm doing. After all, a lovely person recommended this before (and thank you tons for that!). For now, however, please be a good sport and keep my little secret a secret for those who don't know. Don't worry; this isn't much of a mystery story, but I still would like to retain the element of surprise. Mwahaha!**

**Anyways, thanks for reading and please look forward to the next chapter!**


	2. Where the Wind Takes You

To Le Redhead Merchant: Wow, thanks for being the first reviewer! Ha, it's good to know that I represented the Wizard well enough. :) Believe it or not, I didn't interact with him in the game a lot (besides the storyline, of course), so that was a good chance to discover more about his character.

To Cotton Candy Mareep: Oh, thank you! I'm glad you think so highly of this so far. This is my first time trying to write something with a true focus on suspense/mystery (which I'm rather anxious about), so your encouragement definitely helped! Also, thanks for keeping my little surprise, hehehe.

To XxTinyyxX: Aww, thanks! :D I try to focus on making stories realistic so the reader truly feels involved, and it's awesome to know that I'm succeeding so far! Ha, I'm glad your attention has been caught.

* * *

><p><strong> Disclaimer: I do not own the references I used in this story, which involved an Eagle's song called "Witchy Woman" and a Taylor Swift song called "Red". Also, there are some minor references to my previous story, "The Thousand Lumber Bet", but you don't need to read that to understand this.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 1:<span>**

**Where the Wind Takes You**

* * *

><p>It may be obvious to only a few, but the Fugue Forest was bustling with life. Flocks of birds glided across the sky in bright dots of color, twittering to one another as if gossiping about the latest wildlife events. Squirrels leapt from one tree branch to the next, disturbing the dozing owls, who huffily ruffled their feathers each time one went by. Even the hundreds of deep-rooted trees acknowledged their homeland by rustling their red, orange, and yellow leaves to the wind's sound, crafting the tune of fall.<p>

Right now, somewhere deep in the forest was a human that hadn't been born under the tapestry of sunlit leaves, unlike most of the wood's inhabitants. But he belonged to it just the same. He was a person who'd discovered the forest's secrets and knew the birds' songs. He was a person who could navigate through the maze of trees better than any clever fox, and could speak the language of beasts even better than a chattering chipmunk.

He was a person who was currently rambling on about muffins and cupcakes.

"It makes no sense! There are already too many words that mean exactly the same thing. For example, there's a _hundred_ different ways to say _extreme_. Who needs a hundred different names for the same thing?! It makes my head hurt to remember it all...or maybe that's because I hit my head too much… Oh, where was I again?

Ah, right, muffins and cupcakes! So they both have those puffy top thingies, they both taste good, and they're both made with flour…I think. Huh, actually I don't know what their made from; I've only ate them before, but never cooked them… But anyways, if they're _sooo_ alike, then why call them something different? What do you think, Molls? Molly? _Hellooo?_"

Luke stopped in his tracks and looked beside him. When he found only an empty space, the carpenter turned around. Molly was standing not far behind, her feet unmoving, and looking deep in thought. In fact, she was so deep in thought that she didn't notice when Luke approached; nor did she notice when he leaned in so their faces were only a few inches apart. The carpenter drew a deep breath, taking in as much air as possible before shouting, "MOLLY! THERE'S AN ALIEN INVASION AND WE NEED MORE HONEY!"

Molly took jumping out of your skin to a new meaning.

It was difficult to decide which was louder: Luke as he laughed, the flapping of wings when the startled birds deserted their perches, or the pounding of the farmer's heart. When she was certain the scream in her throat was firmly choked down (and her heart wouldn't explode from her chest), she hissed at the carpenter. _"Don't do that!" _

Luke was too busy cracking up to take any notice. The farmer rolled her eyes but decided not to pursue the matter further—she'd get even, after all. Then he'll be sorry…

Once his fit of laughter faded away, he looked at Molly with that goofy grin of his. The farmer mentally swore; it was hard to stay mad when he looked so bloody cute. "Sorry," he said, wiping a tear from his eyes. Somehow he didn't sound very sorry. "The chance was just so perfect, I had to take it."

"You're a jerk, you know that?"

He grin didn't waver an inch. It was possible there was a force field around his mind that deflected any unkind words—that would explain a lot, actually. "Love you too, Molls."

Deciding it wasn't worth the effort to test the force field theory, the farmer merely shook her head and continued on her path. Like an eager child, Luke swung his arms while he kept a brisk pace beside her. It wasn't long before the whistling started. Molly wasn't surprised when some perching birds tilted their colorful heads at the tune. Their black beady eyes stared at the carpenter, sizing him up, before they released a series of chirps that were perfectly in tune with the melody. The farmer smiled; the scene reminded her of a summer day not so long ago.

Luke's whistling drew to a stop, though the sweet chirping continued to linger amongst the trees. "So what were you thinking about?" he asked. "You know, when you were ignoring my world changing speech."

Molly quirked an eyebrow. "You mean when you were rambling about the unjustness of breads?"

"So you _were_ listening!" exclaimed Luke, pointing a finger at her.

"It's hard not to. There's like a mini amplifier in your throat. Hasn't anyone told you before to use your indoor voice?"

"Nah, everybody was too busy shouting at one another to be quiet so they can hear the TV. And besides…" The carpenter skidded to a stop and spread his arms wide, like he was gesturing to the whole of Fugue Forest. "In case you haven't noticed, Molls, look around you. We're as far away from the indoors as we can get."

"Unless we go to the Amazon Rainforest, you mean."

He chuckled.

Using her boot Molly traced a pattern through the leaves that masked the ground from sight with a carpet of bright yellow. _Luke's eyes are yellow,_ she thought absentmindedly. The corners of her lips quirked upwards when she imagined how his eyes crinkled just the tiniest bit when he smiled, which was quite often.

A hard-to-ignore voice dragged Molly from her fond observations and back into reality. Luke was only a few inches away, and was looking at her like she was a puzzle with pieces that refused to fit no matter where you placed them. "Hey, whatcha thinking about now? You have a dreamy look in your eyes."

The expression on Molly's face was stuck between bafflement and indignation. "I _do not_ have a dreamy look in my eyes."

In all of her life, the farmer had never been accused with the description of _dreamy_ before. It was a word that brought up images of tweens who still giggled over a guy's butt. Yep, that trait must've skipped her during adolescence. Or so she thought…

A knowing grin slowly inched on the carpenter's face. "Oh, yes, you do!" he insisted. "Your eyes get all glossy and out of focus, like you're thinking about something sappy. When you see _that_ look on somebody, you just _know_ they're thinking about hot babes and vampires making out."

Molly shook her head. "I can't believe you just said _hot babes_."

Luke pointed a finger at her again, except this time it was for accusing instead of emphasizing. "Haha! You didn't deny it! You were thinking about some hot guy! And I got a good bet of who he is," he winked.

"Doofus," she muttered. Not for the first time the farmer wished she had some duck tape. Silence may be golden, but duck tape is silver. And right now, she could seriously use some.

Molly didn't deny the fact she was probably being ridiculous (though compared to Luke, that didn't mean much). She and the carpenter had been officially going out since the Thousand Lumber Bet, and while she loved every second of their relationship (most of the time, anyways), some uneasiness would still occur whenever it came to discussions on romance—even if it was with her boyfriend. What can she say? Old habits die hard.

"Admit it," taunted Luke. "You think I'm a hunk. A macho man. A studmuffin. A beefcake drizzled in honey-goodness." With each comparison he took a deliberate step backwards, his gaze never lifting from her face. The challenge sparkling in his eyes was as clear as the cocky smirk twisting his mouth, taunting her.

"Seriously?" she asked.

"As serious as pancakes." To Luke, that was a very solemn matter, indeed.

_Oh, why not?_ Molly thought, smiling at the carpenter's silliness.

Then she did what he was hoping for. She lurched forward, grasping the air where Luke was just a moment ago. The carpenter jumped back, turned around, and ran away with a laugh. The farmer grinned before chasing after him.

* * *

><p>"I'm <em>sooo<em> bored."

"We've heard you the first, second, and third time, Chloe," grumbled Owen to his cousin. Bo nodded in agreement.

"Well, it's still true."

The three friends were lying on the dusty floor of the carpentry with their heads barely touching each other. The blacksmith and carpentry were closed because Ramsey and Dale, two old friends, decided to spend the afternoon together at the Brass Bar, which undoubtedly involved several beers, some dirty brawls, and stories told later that should not be heard by young ears. This usually happened once a season, but when it did occur, Owen, Luke, and occasionally Chloe would spend their rare day off by coming up with as much mischief as humanly possible.

However, Luke has been spending more and more time with Molly. This was understandable, of course, but his presence was still sorely missed.

After counting the ceiling's paneling for the third time, Bo sighed, "I wish Luke was here. He'd think up something fun."

Owen turned his head to look at him. "Hey, what about me? Am I not good enough for you?"

Not wanting to be rude, Bo kept silent. Apparently that served as an answer to Owen, who was already irritated from doing nothing for so long. Glaring at Bo, he snapped, "Go and dye your hair blue if you want Luke that badly. Then at least I'll have something to laugh at."

The boy evenly replied, "But your personality matches his better."

"What? And dye this beautiful head?" Owen looked incredulous as he brushed his fingers through his spiky hair. "No way, man, the chicks dig the red."

Chloe snorted. "Kathy alone doesn't count as _chicks_."

The miner reached over and tousled his cousin's hair, her head all but disappearing under his huge gloved hand. "Aw, come on, Chloe. Don't you dig the red?"

"I prefer pink," she grumbled, patting down her messy hair once he removed his hand. Once she deemed her hair was in place again, she lifted her feet into the air and let them bang against the floor with a groan. "I'm _sooo_ bored! Can't we do something?"

"We could pull a prank on Chase," suggested Owen, a wicked grin already on his face.

Bo looked confused. "Why would you want to do that? He hasn't done anything to us."

"Now I remember why you didn't hang out with us before." The miner shot him a withering look. "And dude, he has offended me in the worst possible way next to taking my hammer. The last time I went to the bar he refused to gimme any alcohol!"

"But that was Hayden who did that," pointed out Bo. "And that's because the time before you got drunk and started dancing on the table and singing _Witchy Woman._"

Chloe shuddered, a cringe twisting her face. "Ugh, why did you have to remind me…"

Owen glared. "Hey, at least I didn't start singing _Red _in my underwear_._ Goddess, I still can't believe you fainted."

A painful red enveloped the boy's face. "I was in _pajamas!"_

"Winnie the Pooh jammies isn't an improvement, either."

Before the fight could escalate further, Chloe rolled onto her stomach, propping her head on her hands. "Boys, boys, let's focus on our current dilemma, okay? So, what shall we do?"

"We could, eh…" Owen paused, scratching his head as if hoping it would stimulate ideas. "Luke and Molls are in the forest, right? Well, why don't we just find them and drag them back here."

"But shouldn't we let them have some space?" Bo asked. "They _are_ dating, after all."

"If they wanted alone time, they should've gone to Toucan Island," pointed out Owen. "We don't have enough gold to follow them there."

However, Chloe was not listening to this. She was too busy pondering over her cousin's idea. After a certain, eh, _accident_ involving a very high tree and magically floating rope, Chloe and Bo were not allowed into the Fugue Forest without adult supervision (if you can count Owen and Luke as adults…which any wise person wouldn't). And being a free spirit who hated restrictions of any sort, Chloe despised the punishment. To make matters worse, her grandfather, cousin, and Luke have been busy almost every day, excluding this one, so she had not been to the forest in quite awhile.

"Boys," she said with a large grin. "We're going to the Fugue Forest."

* * *

><p>Luke didn't know when he stopped hearing the crunch of leaves following him. The sound must've stopped only a few minutes ago. When Luke realized this, he let his running slow to a jog; a chase wasn't fun if his pursuer loses him. The carpenter turned around, barely coming to a stop, and cupped his hands around his mouth<em>. "Molly!"<em> he hollered, the drawn out syllable reverberating throughout the forest. "C'mon, even Toby can run faster than that, and he can barely see past the end of his fishing pole!"

The carpenter didn't wait before speeding off again. His silhouette was all but a blur through the screen of quivering golden leaves. A chuckle rumbled in his throat. He could just imagine the flustered look on Molly's face when she finally catches up to him: her face burning red from exertion, the slightest pout to her lips when she finds him, and the glare that would quickly follow it.

The corners of his mouth shaped into a crooked grin. Luke was rarely intimidated by Molly's exasperation; not when all he wanted to do was kiss that endearing frown until she was smiling again, laughing the laugh he loved. It's only when she takes her axe out when Luke forgoes the smooch and runs away as fast as he can (usually to crawl under Pops' bed).

Deciding the chase had gone on long enough, Luke skidded to a step. He staggered to a nearby pine and leaned against it, the rough bark prodding his back. The adrenaline that had coursed through his veins only moments ago rushed out of his body until he was left with only aching muscles. A hand clutched the pain at his side.

Luke struggled to catch his breath. It was a surprise when humid air filled his lungs, heavy in his mouth, instead of the autumn-chilled breaths he was expecting. Nonetheless, he greedily sucked in lungful after lungful. The shirt he was wearing molded to his lithe form, the cloth hot and damp against his skin. Once Luke's breathing was under control, he scanned his surroundings.

Almost immediately a frown tugged his mouth.

The carpenter prided himself on his nearly flawless sense of direction in the Fugue Forest, but now his mental map was failing him. A rush of panic flooded through Luke. He didn't know where he was. A gut feeling told him he was deep in the forest, but exactly how deep was unclear.

Usually Luke could find his whereabouts by spotting patterns in the landscape—like two raspberry bushes followed by a pine with a stumped branch meant he was close to the forest's entrance—but this time when he tried to place his surroundings, he ended up with nothing but a nagging impression tickling the surface of his memory. Something told him he'd been here before, but the blurred memory skirted out his reach whenever he tried to focus on it. It was like trying to remember a person whom you only met in passing—and just as frustrating.

A string of curses that would make Pops cover his ears spewed from Luke's mouth. It wasn't the fact he was lost that frustrated him. In fact, unlike most people, he would _intentionally_ hike in a random direction in order to get lost. But this time it was his own stupidity rather than deliberateness that set him off course. If he hadn't been so focused on showing off, he would've paid more attention to his surroundings.

With a resigned sigh, Luke let his head thump against the tree's knotty bark. On the bright side, at least one more area was filled out in his mental map of the forest. He could also think of this as a new adventure he could tell to Owen and Bo. All it needed was some creative retelling (with some _slight_ exaggeration, of course) to become a thrilling story. He just hoped Molly wouldn't spoil the fun by telling the truth.

Then the image of the farmer rose up in his mind. He could just see her roaring with laughter at the sight of him—Master Luke, ruler of the forest—lost in his own kingdom. Sure, she would tease him for a while, but in the process he would at least see her nose crinkle with amusement. The image brought a smile to his face.

He hoped the farmer would prove herself smarter of the two—as she so frequently did—and find him so they can get out of here in time for dinner.

Then Luke remembered. Shouldn't Molly have caught up by now? She couldn't be that far behind him.

Right…?

Tilting his head, he listened.

And heard nothing.

Not the sound of footsteps, or the cheerful calling of birds, or even the leaves rustling from a breeze. All was silent to the point of being unnatural. It sent shivers down his spine. One of the first lessons his ma taught him as a kid was when the forest was quiet, danger was near.

Luke pushed himself off the tree, his eyes darting around, searching for any sudden movements. A hand automatically jerked to the axe strapped to his side. Though the idea of hurting any animal made him cringe, he wouldn't hesitate to defend himself if worst came to worst. For a rare moment Luke stood still, his muscles tense as his instincts prepared for a fight or flight situation.

A long moment passed while nothing happened. Nonetheless, Luke didn't let his body relax. He raised his head slightly and sniffed.

There was an odd scent that didn't carry the crisp, woodsy smell of crunched leaves and sweet maple trees that belonged to autumn. Instead a musty odor filled with strong traces of mud and decaying plants made Luke's nostrils flare like a wolf.

At last the pieces clicked together: why the air was humid when it should've been cool, why there was not a single sound, and why the air carried such a musty odor.

He was by the swamp—the _Witch Princess's_ swamp.

_Oh, this is bad. This is very, very bad,_ thought a panicked Luke. _Like badder than Pops on bath day._

Now that he knew where he was, Luke had no problem heading in the opposite direction of the swamp, away from the Witch Princess. From experience he knew that the witch wouldn't harm Molly because of some history between them that Luke had always been too scared to ask about. However, the Witch Princess would not spare the same courtesy to the carpenter. There were, eh, _accidents_ that caused some bad blood—bad blood meaning the witch wouldn't hesitate to electrocute him. Already he could imagine the immortal's eyes glinting like a lion ready to pounce right before she incinerates him into a pile of ash.

Luke ran faster.

At last the remaining traces of the musty swamp faded away. Perhaps it was his imagination, but the atmosphere was already beginning to feel safer. Luke grinned. He was free! He was—_CRACK!_

_"_Oh, crap."

The carpenter had only enough time to look down—shards the color of obsidian were scattered around his feet like broken glass—before a miniature tornado surged from the fragments. In the blink of an eye, a wall of colossal winds surrounded Luke. His hair was whipped in a tangled mess of blue, while his eyes were burning until they watered. All he could hear was a howling screech.

One moment a cool mist sprayed Luke's cheeks like he was at Toucan Island; the next the gales became dry and arid; and then they stank of exhaust from city cars.

Suddenly Luke was no longer touching the ground. As if the grown man was nothing but a ragdoll, the tornado raised him high into the air, denying every rule of gravity. Luke flailed his limbs to try to get down, but it was useless. Whenever he managed to fight his way to the edge, the wind merely pushed him back into the center like he was naïve toddler escaping from his crib.

Luke could do nothing but scream while the cushion of air lifted him above the treetops—the very _tall_ treetops. Eventually his struggles ceased at the realization that falling down now would be a death sentence.

With its prisoner in tow, the tornado slowly began to move, inching its way through the forest. Even the trees seemed scared as they thrashed wildly back and forth as the unnatural force of nature neared, their branches clashing against one another.

Luke's frightened eyes watched the progress, waiting to see where he was being taken.

In minutes the color drained from his face.

"Oh, _crap! _Why can't this be Owen instead of me?_"_

* * *

><p>"I'm going to kill him."<p>

Molly jogged through the forest, weaving in and out of the branches that stretched to catch her. Her eyes searched for a glimpse of blue amongst the earthy tones of autumn. "But first I have to find him," mumbled the farmer.

It had been awhile since she last heard a shout from Luke, egging her on. In the beginning of the chase at least three taunts, each followed by a cocky grin, came each minute to guide her. However, the calls gradually came from farther away as Molly struggled to keep up with the carpenter. Now they came too few and far between. Though she knew the Fugue Forest well after an entire summer spent within its depths, her experience couldn't compare to the lifetime that Luke possessed.

A dull burn radiated in her muscles from running for so long. At last Molly was forced to stop, her sweaty palms pressing against her knees. However, her amber eyes didn't stop their search for a smug smirk that was expected behind every corner. When it didn't come, Molly frowned. A tangled knot of worry tightened in her chest, despite her effort to ignore it. "Where did you run off now?" she mumbled breathlessly.

The words had barely left her mouth when one of Luke's taunts, little more than an echo in the breeze, resonated in the distance. Molly smiled. Perfect timing.

Not wasting a second, she hurried in the direction of the voice. It had come from up ahead. The sound continued to replay in her mind while she strained her ears for another one, but all was silent.

A few minutes passed, and Molly began to fear she lost the trail again. But then something made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She hesitated, her body tensed for an unclear threat.

And then it came.

It was as if the forest itself was groaning. A great gust of wind blew past the trees, which thrashed their branches in alarmed outcry. At the same time masses of birds fled from their perches like a shot had been fired. Molly hastily raised her arms in defense as the gale rolled over her, whipping short locks of hair back in streams of ribbons.

As soon as it had come, the wind dispersed.

Molly opened her eyes. There was no evidence of what had just happened except for a few dry leaves tangled in her tousled hair. For a moment she wondered if she'd imagined the whole thing, but the idea was quickly rejected; the farmer wasn't the type to doubt herself.

Molly didn't bother to pick the leaves from her hair. Instead she bolted headfirst to where the spooky and potentially dangerous force had come from, like every person who had no common sense would do.

Out of nowhere, a strangled yell that Molly instantly recognized roared throughout the forest. Her steps faltered before speeding up, her boots thumping against the dirt. _"Luke!"_ she screamed, heart beating fast.

No reply.

She ran faster.

A shiver crept down her spine, and suddenly the once tranquil trees loomed over her like a menacing maze, trapping her in. They no longer contained nature's beauty, but instead they were filled with more eerie shadows than light. It felt all too much like a horror movie.

At last she arrived at a small clearing. In the center of it was an unnaturally perfect outline of a circle traced into the ground. The thing making it so distinguishable was that not a single blade of grass or leaf was left within the outline, even though the ground around it had the typical cover of autumn. It was like a person with OCD had cleared the area until there was a flawless circle, showing only the dark dirt underneath.

Molly stepped into the ring. A lone leaf, its once vibrant color dulled with age, followed her and broke the unnatural perfection.

In the middle of it was a pile of glassy shards that blended in with its surroundings. Molly used her boot to nudge one of the fragments. A breeze rose from the disturbance, stirring some particles of dirt into a weak tornado; it dispersed only seconds later. Molly's hands clenched into fists, her thoughts racing.

The feeling of dread made her blood run cold when she slowly raised her head, looking forward.

Stretching as far as the eye could see was a questionable path. It was formed by strewn crystals, which looked remarkably like the ones in the pile next to Molly. The minerals were sparing, barely enough to hint at a path, but once recognized it was impossible to overlook. It was like the trail Hansel had made, but instead of white pebbles the crystals were black and sinister.

Each one glinted menacingly like a winking eye, daring Molly to follow the path, daring her to go to its master's home—where Luke had undoubtedly been taken: the Witch Princess's swamp.

"Nice going, Luke," she mumbled.


	3. You Know You're in Trouble When

**Usually I would write replies to all of my reviews, but unfortunately I'm very short on time right now. I hope you all understand, and I promise I'll write the replies next time! However, I still want to say that your feedback means so much to me, and thank you a bazillion times over! Also, sorry for the exceedingly late update! I originally wrote this chapter and the next as one combined chapter, but I felt it was better for it to be separate segments. The next one will be posted in a couple of days, so please look forward to it! **

**Disclaimer: There are a few **_**Avatar: The Last Airbender**_** references in here, but they're just at the **_**very**_** beginning, as you will soon find out.**

**Also, fair warning: My Witch Princess will be a bit out of character, but that's kind of the point really...**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

**You know You're in Trouble When…**

_So this is what it's like to be an Airbender,_ Luke thought, with a surprising lack of enthusiasm for an Aang fan. Ever since the tornado had risen above the treetops, with him at the peak, his hands had been clasped firmly over his eyes and have not moved since. His stomach churned with what felt like sour milk. He brooded_, Now I understand why Toph hates flying, even if it's on a fuzzy, eh, cow-thingy…_

Deciding to test his luck, Luke opened his fingers to a slit and peaked out. He regretted it instantly. The world was nothing but a racing blur of yellow and blue and brown. Just streaks of colors, really; like a picture that was taken right after its subject had moved. Luke felt sick from just glancing at this spinning kaleidoscope.

He snapped his fingers back together and groaned. Even with the cover over his eyes again, he could still feel the world swing to one side and then to other, like a seesaw gone wrong.

There was a reason the carpenter never _ever_ climbed anything higher than the kitchen counter (where he could reach the stash of cookies that Pops stored in the cupboards).

It felt like an eternity before the tornado stopped. Though Luke didn't dare remove his hands, he could feel the winds gradually shrink away, carrying him closer to the ground. The howling in his ears died down to a whisper. The breezes that had been whipping his hair back and forth, tying it in knots like a child who could barely tie his own shoes, withdrew its wispy fingers so the locks settled into a messy, blue nest.

When the last of the tornado dissipated, Luke, who was now only inches from the ground, dropped with a thud. A flurry of leaves shot into the air like confetti. With heavenly ground beneath him, relief coursed through Luke and he gave a shaky laugh. He could've kissed the dirt right then and there. Instead, he outstretched his limbs and moved them back and forth to create an angel from the leaves—a leaf-angel. The satisfying crunch and the scratchiness across his skin was like catnip to the carpenter. He really should do this more often.

Luke was so elated that he forgot where the tornado had taken him in the first place. Then he remembered.

His limbs froze in their angelic outline.

His eyes snapped open.

"_Crap!"_

All he could see was two ginormous orbs of amber, each with a pit in the center that threatened to suck him into oblivion.

Luke jumped back with a yelp, scattering another flurry in the process. Only then did he realize the orbs were actually a pair of eyes. Their owner was a woman standing above the carpenter, who still lay sprawled on the ground. Luke tilted his head up so he could get a better view of the person. Immediately his breathing hitched.

The woman was beautiful. Dazzling.

_Ethereal_.

She was like a princess that stepped out of the dusty pages of a fairytale, carrying all the loveliness and splendor of her former world along with her. Her hair fell in gentle curls, shimmering like woven moonlight whenever she moved. Amber eyes, so mesmerizing that you couldn't tear your gaze away, stood out like beacons against skin as white as porcelain. One word from her ruby lips would make any man strive to be the prince that dreams are made of.

Any man…except for Luke, that is. All of this woman's bewitching charms were little more than a distraction to the carpenter. It wasn't that he didn't notice her beauty—you'd be blind not to—but he felt no compulsion to turn himself into a prince for her, or anything else, for that matter. (Then again, turning Luke into a prince would be like turning Owen into a ballerina.) There were a few simple reasons why Luke was not charmed by the woman. First, he was already taken. Second, he preferred brunettes. They made the best pancakes, for whatever reason. And third, this stunning gem's true identity was the bane of his existence (next to heights, that is): the Witch Princess.

As in, the crazy witch who would happily destroy Castanet if her home wasn't at stake.

It also didn't help that every time she found the carpenter chopping lumber, she would threaten to turn him into a tree.

The thought of spending life rooted to one place with birds pooping in his branches made Luke feel sick all over again.

"Oh, that's it…" With a groan, Luke rolled onto his stomach and lost his lunch.

An ear-piercing shriek cut through the air when the witch leapt away, trying to avoid the mess. Luke ignored her jet of swearing, and collapsed onto his back in exhaustion. Instead of feeling embarrassed, he only wished he had aimed for the Witch Princess's perfectly polished shoes. Snob…

"You _moron_!" she screeched, stomping her foot like a tantrum-throwing child. "How _dare_ you trespass my property and then _defile_ it!"

Eyes flashing red, the witch pointed her index finger at the carpenter. Seeing the threat, Luke found the energy to scramble backwards, the palms of his hands scraping against twigs and dirt. His back bumped into a tree, stopping him. Finding himself trapped, he raised his arms as if that could provide a barrier between him and whatever spells the witch might throw. "Hey, look, this isn't my fault!" he insisted. Already his thoughts were racing of how he could get out of this alive with all body parts still attached. If only Molly was there; she could calm the witch.

Scowling, the Witch Princess lowered her outstretched hand by an inch, the smallest sign of hesitation. "Better speak quickly."

Taking his chance, Luke swallowed the acidic taste in his mouth, sucked in a deep breath, and blurted out, "I was walking through the forest, minding my own business, when a bear leapt out and started to chase me. I didn't want to kill an innocent animal, right, so I led it to a friendly mama-bear. Well, it turned out they were old sweethearts in cub-high school, so they were _really_ happy to see each other. You'd think a bear hug would be all warm and cuddly, but nobody tells you how scary it is! What with those sharp claws and those _teeth_ and—"

"Do all mortals waste their lives by talking about stupid things?" interrupted the Witch Princess.

"What? You don't believe in lonely bears in search of love?"

"That and along with your sanity."

"Look who's talking," muttered Luke.

With an expression that bordered on murderous, the Witch Princess pointed her finger at him, shaking it threateningly. "Don't make me use this."

Luke gulped. "Right. So I left the reunited sweethearts and started walking again. It was only a few minutes before I stepped on some stupid rock. It made a loud _crack,_ and then there was a _whoosh,_ and then there were winds that lifted me into the air, and I went '_crap, crap, crap',_ and then the winds dumped me here." At this point, Luke had already forgotten the witch's threat—years of living with Gill makes you like that.

"After that I made a leaf-angel, and then I opened my eyes and saw you, and then I barfed, and then you started screeching, _'You mo—' _

Luke's voice cut off abruptly. Confused, the carpenter tried to speak, but only a muffled noise came from his clamped mouth. His eyes widened in panic. Try as he might, his lips wouldn't pull apart; it was like they'd been glued together.

The Witch Princess sighed. "That's better. Now, when I ask something, you will answer the question without any ridiculous stories. Understood?"

He nodded.

"Good." She snapped her fingers; Luke gasped. "Describe the _'stupid rock'_."

Luke licked his suddenly dry lips before answering. "Er, it was hard…and small."

Her eyes flashed red, and he hastily added, "It looked kinda like one of those glossy black rocks, but I dunno what it's called."

The witch began pacing in a short line in front of him. "Black? Odd. The winds sound like my enchantment, but the crystals should be white, not black."

"Hey, if you're a rock collector, I have some good friends who can probably get you a replacement for the one I, eh, broke." Luke went on obliviously. He had a tendency to ramble when he was nervous.

"Maybe it was defected…but no. Pandora said it was a perfect wind crystal, and she knows her minerals. The enchantment should've steered nosy humans _away_ from my swamp…and yet it did the exact opposite. Why?"

"But yeah, Phoebe and Owen could totally get you any type of rock you want, and they'd make sure it's extra extreme! I mean, I'm sure you're rock was extreme, too, but this one will be, like, the extreme king of rocks!"

"I suppose the crystal could've been tampered with, but who could've done it? The only ones powerful enough is I and the—"

"Like, extremer than elephants. Come on, who wouldn't want to have a trunk?" Luke positioned his arm underneath his nose in an elephant impersonation, but stopped when he saw the look on the witch's face. "What?" he asked, letting his arm droop to his side. "You don't like elephants?"

The temperature dropped by several degrees when the Witch Princess whipped towards Luke. Her eyes were bright and excited. "I should've known you'd be helping _him_."

He blinked. "Him? How do you know the elephant isn't a girl?"

The witch looked amused. "Elephant? Is that your codename for him? Even with a thousand years, he still lacks style. And yet he thinks he's _sooo_ clever for coming up with this, doesn't he?"

"Okay, I know you're not talking about me, now. If I was clever, I would find invent a thingamabob to cook a hundred pancakes at once." The mention of food made his stomach grumble, a harsh reminder about the lunch he'd just puked and the dinner he'll miss if he doesn't get home soon. "_Right_. Well, now that's cleared up, I think I'll just go—"

Before he could stand, the witch shot out her hand. Suddenly every inch of Luke's body was encased in sharp, numbing prickles, as if spiders were stabbing their fangs into his skin, injecting their paralysis. Luke tried to move but his muscles refused to obey. He tried to shout at the witch but his lips were once again glued. Luke pushed away the rising panic that was flooding into his bloodstream. He focused all of his will into lifting his legs, clenching his hands, moving _something_. But the only thing he could elicit was an aching jaw from gritting his teeth so hard.

An unnerving grin spread across the Witch Princess's face as she watched him struggle. She looked like a child observing with keen interest while a worm burned underneath her magnifying glass. Was this what Luke was to her? An animal subjected to cruelty just to satisfy her morbid curiosity?

"Oh, do you really think I'd let you go so easily?" she said, almost in a purr. "No. I want him to see how pathetic he was for having faith in his rescuer."

_For Goddess's sake, who is she rambling about!_ His mind screamed since his mouth could not. At this point, he'd figured out this wasn't about elephants.

A sneer twisted the Witch Princess's beautiful features. "What _did_ he see in you, anyway? Did he really think a measly mortal who can swing an axe would be enough to save him? Hmm, speaking of such…"

When she stepped closer to Luke, every instinct screamed at him to get away, to hide somewhere no one could find him, but her hex had turned him into a living statue. He could only watch with wide, panicked eyes when she bent down so close to him that he could smell the burnt odor of magic clinging to her skin. The witch reached for his waist—no, his _belt. _Her thin, pale fingers found the loop his axe was hooked to; the tool unlatched with ease.

Luke yearned to leap up and snatch it from her hands, but his fingers only twitched. The fear he'd experienced earlier was burned away when he watched the Witch Princess spin _his_ axe, the present he'd cherished since his eighth birthday, like it was some common stick she could fool around with.

Well, he fooled around with it, too, but at least he knew what he was doing…when it mattered.

The Witch Princess whispered something incomprehensible under her breath. Luke took that as a sign to brace himself. His squeezed his eyes shut, muscles tensed, as she brought her fingers together, then—

_SNAP!_

Luke winced.

But nothing happened.

The grimace on his face slowly disappeared. Luke risked opening one eye. When there wasn't a repercussion, he opened both eyes and was met with a smirking witch.

"You're lucky, mortal," she said. "It's not everyday I use my magic on lesser beings."

A part of him wanted to roll his eyes, wondering whether Gill and the Witch Princess were somehow related, while the other part did a once-over to check that all limbs were accounted for. He found the previous curse had worn away, for his muscles moved without resistance.

When all of him was accounted for, Luke was relieved but puzzled. Was she trying to scare him, or did she really cast a hex whose effects were slow to show?

His question was answered when he looked up at the Witch Princess. In the span of a moment, she grew so tall that she was towering over him like a giantess.

Great. Now he had to deal with not only a psychopathic witch, but also a giant one. Just perfect.

The expression on his face must've been ridiculous, because she began to laugh. The noise was so unexpectedly deep that it startled Luke.

Her voice was just as low-pitched when she said, "It's not me, it's you. Just look around."

Luke did. He looked around and gasped. It was not just the Witch Princess who had grown but everything else, as well. The trees were like mountains above him, the leaves big enough that he could use one as a blanket. Then it dawned on him. The world was not growing-he was shrinking!

"What did you—" his squeakier voice was cut off with a cry. It took him a moment to realize it was him that made the noise. _Crap,_ he thought as the world turned black.

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><p><strong>Something that I forgot to say before: The white crystals that can summon tornadoes? The one the witch is talking about? Yeah, that's actually a reference to the wind crystals in the Rune Factory series. <strong>

**The Witch Princess also mentioned Pandora in this chapter. Well, Pandora is kind of like the Rune Factory (specifically, Tides of Destiny) equivalent of the Harvest Moon witches. I have this little headcanon that all of the witch princesses (Vivi, the blonde witch in the older games, and Pandora) are related. I know it's not true, but I like to think it is, if only to have some additional story elements to experiment with. If you want more details, you can ask me in a review or check out my mini-story, _By Any Other Name_. It goes into further depth about Vivi's life, along with the other witches. **


	4. Facades

**Sorry for the long wait, but I'm back and with some important news! There are three things that I want to point out that are rather pivotal for this story. So if you can just take a moment to read this, then you have my gratitude!**

**1) Lately I've trying to hone my skills as a writer. I've been putting in a **_**lot**_** of effort into this story, which is why you'll notice the chapters are more substantial and (hopefully) better quality than my previous works. Unfortunately, this also means that updates will take longer, as you may have already noticed (sorry!). Basically, while new chapters will take longer to be posted, the quality and length will be enhanced. Fair enough trade?**

**2) Some of you may have noticed this already but **_**Shush, Little Bird**_** is a lot darker, for lack of a better word, than **_**The Thousand Lumber Bet**_**. While I assure you there will still be times reserved for laughing and smiling, there are also more mature themes as well. And for those who are squeamish, when I say 'mature', I DO NOT mean sexual stuff. Instead, I mean there will be chapters with some more serious themes in it-not all fun and games. Again, that does not mean there will be a lack of humor.**

**3) This is the most important yet; are you ready for it? (Takes a deep breath) **_**I hate the color green.**_** Kidding. Honestly, this is just a little fun thing I've come up with. Recently I have been practicing how to write riddles, of all things. So I figured what better way to see if they are any good, than to have somebody else read them. Therefore, from now on, you will find a riddle at the end of the chapter. Please don't feel like you have to answer them—it's just for fun. The answer to a riddle will be posted on the following chapter. Oh, and I do like the color green. ;)**

**XxTinyxX:** Thank you! I think that Vivi is arguably the nicest Witch Princess in the Harvest Moon series…too bad I'm basically turning her into a psychopath. (Goes back into hiding before an angry mob comes.)

**CAPJHMPAgirl:** Haha, thanks for your enthusiasm. Don't worry too much about Luke; things will look up for him…eventually. ;)

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

**Façades**

All usual disclaimers apply.

The swamp was _not_ the place to get lost in. Along with the usual aggravations, such as insects buzzing around you like you're a free buffet, there were other things to watch out for. In hopes of preventing wanderers from getting to close, the Witch Princess had riddled the area with enchantments. Some were harmless, meant to fill your head with compulsions to turn around, either because you forgot something that you _absolutely_ needed, or that today was just not the day for a hike. A deterrent such as this could be shaken off with a firm resolve and the knowledge that the impulsions were nothing more than a trick.

However, some enchantments were not so harmless. If a person was unfortunate enough to stumble across one of the less desirable spells, they would find themselves in quite a predicament; one that could involve beasts who attack without reason and geysers that spout hallucinogenic steam. It was the reason why the townsfolk gave the swamp a _very_ wide berth. Many preferred not to enter the forest at all, and in the rare occasion it was mandatory, they would stick close to the entrance.

Molly was different from the other villagers. She had knowledge of the Fugue Forest that even Luke did not possess. When she had been looking in the swamp for the Green Bell, she was lucky enough to have Finn as a guide. Harvest Sprites have a knack for sniffing out magic, so it was easy for him to lead her through the swamp without stumbling into traps. Thankfully, Molly visited the Witch Princess so often that she no longer needed Finn as a guide.

This served Molly especially well as she searched for the carpenter. It was not difficult to track him. The path of broken crystals caught the afternoon light like diamonds; and if that was too subtle, then the trees that were slumped and missing patches of leaves also proved to be useful landmarks. Molly reasoned that whatever had taken Luke must have been strong and fast, judging by the battered trees. Although it would be impossible to catch up to the carpenter, if she followed the trail it could lead her right to him.

The crystals continued for quite awhile, but eventually they dwindled away until there was nothing left to follow. However, Molly knew where to go. The path ended where the forest merged into the swamp, as she expected. Luke would not be far away. He knew better than to go there...and yet their paths would have crossed by now if he had backtracked. So why hadn't he? The question left Molly with a hard lump in her throat.

Swallowing it, she marched into the swamp.

~HM~

A disgusting squelch followed Molly whenever she lifted her boots from the muddy ground. The sound was becoming as familiar to her as a heartbeat. She gave up long ago at swatting the insects that buzzed around her; as soon as she knocked one down, a dozen more would take its place. It would be a miracle if she had an inch of unbitten skin when she got out of the swamp.

Molly had been traveling for less than an hour, and the majority of that time was spent walking through mist. It clung to the area like a veil; thin enough for her to know where she was going, but thick enough so the landscape up ahead was obscured. This was commonplace in any swamp. However, as Molly continued walking, she noticed a subtle difference. At first it was imperceptible, but she realized the haze was gradually thickening until it was more of a fog than mist. Eventually it became so dense that when she outstretched her hand, the haze would swallow it up.

Molly frowned, pulling back her hand. It had to be the Witch Princess's doing. Strange that she would decide to change something now. She seldom updated her enchantments since the villagers knew to keep their distance, and because Molly, the one person whom she did like to see, had already memorized a trap-free route through the swamp.

The squelching stopped and Molly's boots sunk an inch into the mud when she paused, facing the unfathomable wall of gray. While she considered what to do, something was creeping from behind her. An arm's length away was a tree with bark buried underneath a tangle of vines, each as thick as rope. One of the vines detached from its brethren. The farmer showed no signs of recognition as it plopped to the ground. The fog made it all but invisible as it slinked towards her, its body carving a snake-like trail through the mud.

Her back was turned. A perfect target.

The vine rose from the ground, coiling around her ankle like a lasso, leaving only inches of empty air between it and skin. It was just about to tighten in an unbreakable snare when—

_Smack!_

"Good to know that's still the same." Molly lifted her boot, revealing what was left of the trampled vine. Better luck next time.

She squinted her eyes, struggling to peer through the fog, but could make nothing out. It would be hopeless to just barge through it and hope for the best; that would only result in getting lost, and then somebody would have to save her _and_ Luke. She could wait and see if the fog disperses, but who knows how long that could take. Time was limited. Luke could be wandering around somewhere, lost and blind. The thought tied her stomach into knots. If she could not see through the fog, how could he? Frustrated, Molly blew a strand of hair out of her face.

Just then a flash of movement caught her eye. A beam of light, no bigger than a button, was coming from within the haze. It was swinging back and forth like a pendulum or a searchlight; swaying to one side until it disappeared from view, then reappearing, before swaying to the other side. Molly watched as it repeated the pattern. By the third time, the beam jerked in front of her, as if noticing her for the first time. For a moment it didn't move, but then it slowly widened until it was the size of a full-length mirror, large enough to step through. The fog within the perimeter dissipated, revealing a clear path to the Witch Princess's hut ahead. Molly ran as fast as she could towards the pink building, in fear that the path would vanish and submerge her in fog. It never did.

In no time at all she faced the Witch Princess's door. Two knocks later and the immortal herself appeared. She looked surprised, most likely because she assumed the newest enchantment would have warded off visitors.

The witch stayed by the doorway, making it impossible for Molly to enter. "Hello, dear," she said, amber eyes flickering past her, nervous. "Unfortunately, I can't entertain any mortals today. Goodbye."

The door was about to swing shut, but Molly jammed her foot in before it could. "Unfortunately, this mortal needs to talk to you."

She ignored the witch's huff as she pried open the door just enough to slide inside. Immediately the witch stepped in front so her view was limited. Molly frowned. What was she trying to hide?

"Dear, can't you come back another time? One of my potions broke and it's not safe for you to be here. You could get a high fever or your hair could turn green or—"

"If Phoebe can pull off green hair, I'm sure I could, too," Molly interrupted. She looked around the witch and scanned the room. There were no spilled liquids that she could see. In fact, the cauldron Molly usually found gurgling with the witch's latest brew was empty. The rest of the hut looked as it normally did, with odds and ends scattered around that Molly thought, knowing the witch, she'd be better off not raising too many questions about.

Besides the cauldron, the only thing out of the ordinary was a birdcage that Molly had never seen before, placed on the windowsill. It was an old-fashioned one, about the size of Molly's outstretched arm, and made from wrought iron bars, shaped into a dome that curved into a small heart at the top. Inside were two birds roosting on a perch that spanned the interior of the cage. Their plumages were such vibrant colors they looked out of place with the witch's dark color scheme.

Molly was unsurprised when she recognized the smaller bird as the Yellow Warbler she had met a season ago. The Witch Princess had told Luke and Molly how she had found the bird unable to fly. She asked them to find a Fugue Mushroom so she could make a potion to heal it. Once Luke and Molly returned with the fungus in hand, they wanted to check on the bird to see if it was all right, but the Witch Princess ran them off before they could. It struck Molly as unusual, considering the witch had asked them to help, but she had too many matters on her mind to dwell on it.

At least now she knew the Yellow Warbler was doing okay.

Molly recognized the other bird just as easily as she had the first. Judging from its plumage—which began as a soft blue with traces of lavender on its crest, to a sapphire adorning its wings, and then a chest dusted with white like powdered sugar; all of which was contrasted with ebony brands outlining the sides of its face, so bold as if somebody had stroked them on with an ink brush—the bird was a Blue Jay.

The Witch Princess's snappish voice returned Molly's attention to the matter at hand. "Apparently rudeness is overlooked nowadays, seeing as how people just barge in whenever they want. It's not like I'm _busy_ or anything."

Any other time Molly would have been mortified if somebody had called her rude—_cheeky_, perhaps, yet never rude—but the witch's cutting remarks were so frequent she hardly cared anymore. Instead she crossed her arms and steadied her gaze on the immortal, making it clear she had no intentions of leaving.

The Witch Princess sighed. "Whatever. Just let me have some tea first before you come pouring out your troubles."

At first Molly figured she must have been joking. She should've known better; the immortal didn't have a good sense of humor.

The Witch Princess snapped her fingers and a tea set, complete with a tray of biscuits, popped into existence on a table that wasn't there a minute ago. A set of matching chairs appeared, decorated as if they belonged in an English garden rather than the middle of a swamp. On the tray was a plump teapot spouting steam. Molly just hoped it wasn't the same steam in the hallucinogenic geysers. The last thing she needed was delusions.

"Sit," the witch ordered, taking her own advice.

Molly wanted to argue this wasn't the time for a tea party, but knew it would be pointless. She held back a sigh and sat opposite of the princess, who had her ankles crossed and her hands placed neatly on her lap, looking as natural as any lady from a Jane Austen novel. Molly was all too aware of her mud-stained clothes and the sweaty strands of hair sticking to her forehead. She mentally shoved away the insecurities. _I'm a farmer, not some dainty lady._

If only Finn could see her now; he would either be laughing so hard he'd be rolling on the ground like an upturned beetle, or dashing off to the nearest boutique to find a suitable dress for her. She shuddered.

"Flavor?"

Molly blinked. "Er, sorry?"

The Witch Princess made an impatient sound. "For your _tea_. What flavor do you want?"

"Oh. Green, please."

Without any assistance, the teapot levitated off the table and poured a yellowish liquid into her cup, before serving the Witch Princess, the liquid now a reddish-brown. Rooibos, judging on the robust odor. Molly wrinkled her nose; to her it smelled like sweaty socks. "You know, I never took you for the tea party type."

"Blame it on my niece." The witch sipped her tea. "Well? Are you going to tell me what you came here for or what?"

Although Molly placed her hands around the cup, letting the warmth seep into her skin, she did not raise it to her lips. It was unclear whether she would have trusted the tea more if the witch had poured it herself rather than by magic. "I want to know if you've seen my friend. He might've wandered into your swamp by accident, and I figured it would better to find him before he gets stuck in one of your enchantments. By the way, nice fog."

Peering over the brim of her cup, the Witch Princess regarded her with a frown. "And look at what good it did. I assumed it would be enough to keep fools away, but apparently not."

Molly simmered almost as much as the tea. Trying to calm down, she reminded herself that the immortal didn't mean to be offensive; she just didn't know how to behave around people. Or at least that's what Molly told herself.

Nibbling on a biscuit, she jabbed her thumb to the Yellow Warbler. "My friend's the one who helped me with that little guy. You know, blue hair, Band-Aid on his nose, likes the sound of his own voice."

The witch scowled. "Ah, yes, I remember him. He's that little twerp who insulted my home."

"I told you before, he didn't mean to be insulting. He just isn't used to your…many charms_."_

Suddenly the Witch Princess's eyes surged with red when she leaned forward, slamming her cup on its saucer with a clink, spilling drops of tea. "Sweet talk all you want, dear, but I know what he's _really_ like. Do you think I do not notice how he marches into the forest every day like he owns the place? Tearing down the forest, upsetting the animals! He's a menace!"

"He's a _carpenter._" she retorted, struggling to keep her voice low._ "_What do you expect him to do? Go around and pick daisies?"

"I don't expect even that much. Honestly, dear, I'm astounded you still consider him a friend."

The biscuit Molly was holding crumbled in her fist. "_Boy_friend, actually."

The wise part of her mind rebuked her for declaring this, since any mention of Luke only served to provoke the already testy witch. The other part of her mind argued it was important to be honest. Wisdom retorted she was just being vindictive. True and true.

Either way, the witch clearly did not expect this turn of events. While the scarlet faded from her eyes until it was just an undertone, she gaped at Molly as if her hair really _had_ turned green. Molly expected a lecture on how ridiculous she was being, but instead the first thing to come out of the witch's mouth was, "Are you sure you're not under a curse?"

Molly blinked. She was joking. Right? One look at her genuinely concerned expression told her otherwise.

She shook her head in disbelief. "Do you really hate Luke so much you think I'd have to be under a curse to like him?"

"It seems to be a very potent one. I'll get my spell book and—"

"_I am not under a curse!"_

She slapped away the witch's outstretched hand, at last reaching her breaking point.

Her understanding, and even sympathy, towards the Witch Princess evaporated along with her self-restraint. She didn't care that the witch was lonely or socially inept. She didn't even care that she had the power to do some not-so pleasant things to her with a flick of a finger. The only thing she _did_ care about was how the witch was insulting Luke while he was lost _in her swamp! _

It felt like ice was sliding down her spine when she thought of Luke alone in that place, blindly tumbling through the fog where unnatural traps bided their time, waiting for him to take a wrong step, before pouncing. And all the Witch Princess could do was mock.

All the worry and fear and frustration that had been building up inside Molly, ever since she lost sight of that fiery bandana, were now sizzling in her veins. Blood pounded loud and hard in her ears. She wanted to rip that self-righteous look off the witch's face.

Undaunted by the warning sparks snapping from the immortal's fingertips, Molly slammed her hands on the table, leaning forward until her face was only inches away from the witch's. The words sweltering on the tip of her tongue felt like hot, heavy coals, just waiting to set a fire and watch it burn.

"You're unbelievable!" she yelled. "You say the reason you refuse talk to anyone is because the villagers hate what you are. So they chased you out, made you live in this awful swamp. But that isn't true, is it? All these enchantments you have? They're not here because you want protection; they're here because you want to _wall_ yourself in! You're not even giving the villagers a chance to prove themselves. They would give a stranger the shirts off their backs without question, and yet you claim they're the bad guys."

"_Because they are!" _

Although the air was still, the Witch Princess's hair thrashed back and forth like she was caught in a tornado. Crimson began to suffuse in their tea, as if somebody was oozing red ink into the liquids. Then Molly realized—it was blood.

An accent the Witch Princess had kept carefully concealed now leaked into her voice, resonating of a life long ago. "The hunts, the bloodbaths, things that could only be glimpsed in the worst of nightmares—_you saw_ _none of it!_ You did not see the bloodied bodies, nor listened to the screams coursing through the night, or even smell the reek of burning flesh. You think those townsfolk you hold so dear are innocent? Kind and selfless, even? Nothing but illusions! Their ancestors were murderers, along with the rest of the mortal scum. You were not there, during the centuries where humans slaughtered thousands of innocents, snuffing them out like they were nothing but pests. My people…my family. Dead. All because humans were afraid of the word _magic_."

The Witch Princess, a wielder of power that others could only dream of, looked as fragile as a porcelain doll. Her hair floated down to her chin and became limp. Tears shone in her eyes, though not a single one dropped.

"You were not there," she whispered, "when the ground was soaked with red."

There was a long silence, prolonging this moment of sorrow so it felt like it would never end.

Then Molly found her voice, a hundred times softer than ever before. "No, I wasn't. But you're not here, _now_. These walls you set up are not only keeping everyone out, but also locking you in, too. The witch-hunts were centuries ago, Princess. Everything has changed. You just need to come out and see it."

The Witch Princess shook her head, eyes hardening to rubies. "Don't you understand? Nothing has changed, nor will it ever! I have lived through the rise of civilizations and the fall of empires. Mistakes may take on new forms, but they are still repeated in every generation. People do not change. _That_ is the truth."

"How do you explain me, then?" Molly demanded, her voice hard but not without compassion.

"What do you mean?"

"If you really believe that people can't change, then why am I here? It was always your decision to let me visit you. At any minute you could have changed your enchantments so I would be lost in the swamp."

"But I did," the witch pointed out. "I created the fog."

Molly rolled her eyes, as if the accomplishment was at the same level as scrambling an egg. "I doubt the best you can come up with is a bit of cloud. And if you really wanted me gone, then why did you send that beam of light for me to follow?"

The Witch Princess looked at her like she had spoken a different language. "What nonsense are you rambling about? I never summoned any lights. That would defeat the purpose of the fog."

Molly's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Wait, that doesn't make any sense. I figured it must've been you, but if it wasn't, then who sent it?"

Perhaps she imagined it, but Molly could've sworn the witch's eyes flitted to the birdcage before taking a sudden interest in her shiny black shoes. "I'm not sure," she mumbled.

Molly arched an eyebrow. A life of solitude turns a person into a terrible liar.

She drew her focus away from the witch and to the antique cage. Apparently their argument had roused the birds from their sleep.

The Blue Jay stumbled off its perch and blinked rapidly as it tried to take in it surroundings. Although Molly was no ornithologist, she could've sworn that it looked confused. The bird spotted the Witch Princess first, and then Molly second. For a moment the bird froze, struggling to comprehend the situation, before bursting into action like somebody had pressed the play button.

The Blue Jay charged forward with a cry that made Molly's ears ring from the close proximity, only for it to ram headfirst into the cage bars. There was a sickening bang when the bird collided with the metal. It reeled backwards, the stars spinning above its head practically visible as it slumped to the floor. The Yellow Warbler gave what looked like an eye-roll from where it sat calmly on its perch.

For a rare moment, Molly was speechless. She'd never seen a bird act like _that_ before. Then something caught her attention, something so glaringly apparent that she was shocked she had only noticed it now; like a song you didn't know was playing in the background until, suddenly, you could pick out every lyric, though the volume never changed.

The Blue Jay's eyes were yellow. Not just any yellow—_Luke's_ yellow.

A bead of blood formed on Molly's lip as she refrained from voicing what was blaring in her head like a wail: "_No, no, no!"_

Meanwhile, an expression akin to panic flitted across the Witch Princess's face, but it vanished as quickly as it came. She was silent as she swiped her index finger through the air. The Blue Jay had just gotten to its feet when its body became rigid. As if pushed by an invisible hand, it fell over like a statue knocked from its pedestal. This time the bird did not stir.

The Witch Princess looked at Molly with an unsettling calmness that felt even more sinister than her rage.

"It still has a bit of a wild streak," she said coolly as if the bird—_Luke_—was a difficult animal that merely had to be tamed. "Now, where were we again?"

Molly hesitated. In any other circumstance, she would launch back into the dispute without a second thought of the consequences. However, it was not just her wellbeing that rested on what she did next, but Luke's as well. Her eyes flitted to the immobile Blue Jay—only the slightest rise and fall of its chest gave the reassurance it was asleep, instead of something infinitely worse—before landing on the Witch Princess.

Although the distraction had placated the witch, Molly knew that she was treading on a _very_ fine rope; one that could lead her and Luke safely across this dark abyss, or send them plummeting into it with one misstep. No pressure.

Molly knew what she had to do. Using every ounce of her acting skills, she erased the repulsion from her face and plastered on an expression that would hopefully pass as remorseful.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you, Princess," she mumbled in a low, sheepish voice that she'd never used before. "I'm not—I don't know what came over me. I guess I'm just worried, that's all, but it's not right to take it on you. Forgive me, please?"

The Witch Princess looked surprised, but quickly recovered with a smug expression. All traces of the vulnerable, heartbroken girl were gone. "Yes, well, mortals are fond of their dramatic reactions, I suppose. I'm not sure where your…_acquaintance_ is, but I'll keep an eye out for it—him."

Molly managed a strained smile. "Thanks. That's…generous."

The scrape of her chair sounded more like a shriek when she stood. Her stomach felt sick when she saw the teacups still brimming with blood. Feeling like a performer on stage, she walked stiffly past the witch and towards the door. Her fingers had just closed over the knob when a voice froze her to the spot. "Oh, and dear?"

Molly forced herself to turn around and meet the witch's cold eyes. Her smile was bewitching. She said in a voice as smooth as glass, "Immortals have _very_ long memories, and hold even longer grudges. Keep that in mind, dear."

The farmer stiffened, the threat ringing sharp in the tense air between them. Then Molly twisted the doorknob and left without a backwards glance.

~HM~

The journey back to Harmonica Town would be at least an hour-long hike through the woods, which left Molly some much needed time to think. And she had a _lot_ to think about. The Witch Princess. Luke. What to do next. People she should ask for help. How to not go insane with the doubts that zipped through her head like a bullet train, yelling at how impossible her chances were and how she should just give up now and—

_Enough._

Molly planted her feet firmly into the dirt. Unmoving, she closed her eyes, tuning out everything until there was nothing, and took a deep breath. As her muscles rose with the intake, she imagined every thought, worry, and doubt in the form of the lotus-shaped lanterns used in the Firefly Festival. One by one the lanterns were lit with a soft, glimmering light, like a star had fallen into each of the blooms. Once the dark tapestry of her mind was illuminated, Molly let her breath rush out, her shoulders loosening, and released the lanterns into a flowing river. She watched as the current carried the lights away until they winked out of sight.

Molly opened her eyes.

She was once again in the Fugue Forest, the area oddly serene, as if that moment had set everything at peace. The trees rustled gently around her, while the soft cooing of birds calmed her nerves. The emotions that had threatened to overwhelm began to subside. Her thoughts were no longer in the mess they were in before, but instead lined in manageable rows, waiting for her decision of which one to focus on first. _One thing at a time, Molly. _If she tried to figure everything out at once, it would only lead to disorganized plans and wasted time she could not afford.

The first thing that surfaced to her mind was the Witch Princess. Molly had heard stories of the witch's infamous deeds ever since she arrived at Castanet, but she always took them as just small-town rumors; events that become embellished with each retelling. When Molly first met her, she believed she was just a woman who had been persecuted for so long that she resigned herself to a life in solitude. Molly knew that she had powers, but always considered her harmless, if not melodramatic. Now all of those frightening tales came rushing back to her. She never put any stock in them, and even tried to defend the witch, but now she knew the stories were no exaggerations. The harmless woman that Molly had tried to befriend was not so harmless after all. She was dangerous enough to not only threaten her, but to also kidnap Luke and turn him into a bird.

Molly had the oddest, most inappropriate urge to laugh. The Witch Princess turned Luke into a bird since a frog was clearly out of the options, of course.

That burst of humor was fleeting as worry press down on her chest like a ton of bricks. How could she free Luke from a centuries-old witch? While Molly had proved to be tougher than she looked, she had no chance against a magical being. Well, not alone, at least.

She could go to the townsfolk for help. Molly could easily convince them to help her and…what? Go up against an immortal being and have everybody turned into birds? Molly shook her head. No, she could not risk their safety. That brought another concern to mind. What she said back in the hut was true. The villagers of Castanet—even the standoffish ones, such as Luna and Gill—would march off to save one of their own without a second thought. And it was that unswerving loyalty that would lead them to their doom. Even with everyone working together, they still would not be strong enough to stop the witch. Just the thought of someone as calm as Toby or as gentle as Bo facing that sort of threat brought a grimace to Molly's face.

In order to keep those in Castanet safe, Molly not only had to rescue Luke, but to do it quickly before suspicions rose and the villagers took matters into their own hands. The weight on Molly's shoulders grew heavier since so many lives—even those that did not realize it—were depending on her.

She sighed, practically seeing her options narrow by the second. If the villagers were out, whom else could she turn to? She had to pick somebody who would be willing to help, keep a secret, and most importantly, powerful enough to stand against the witch. That left only three options: the Harvest Goddess, the Harvest King, and the Wizard.

None of which Molly knew very well, having only met them a few times on her quest to save Castanet. But they were her only chance.

The goddess would be the likeliest to help, since she was the most sympathetic to humans than the other immortals. She was also in Molly's debt after the farmer had saved her and the island. However, there was one serious disadvantage that forced Molly to cross her name off the list. Under normal circumstances, the Harvest Goddess could put an end to the witch's games, but she was still recovering from the island's time of deterioration. Her powers in her weakened state would not be enough to help Molly.

The farmer's hope dwindled. She quickly shook her head, as if trying to shake off the pessimism, and moved on to the next option: the Harvest King. Unfortunately, this candidate was just as unlikely as the first. While the witch was no match for the Harvest King, he possessed a holier-than-thou personality; he was a god, after all, and a god did not interfere with 'trifle human concerns'. The only reason he helped Molly before was because his own image had been on the line; what would his subjects think of him if he could not sustain his own domain? It was unlikely the Harvest King would help again without _his_ status in danger.

So that left only the Wizard. Unlike the rest of the villagers, Molly knew that his title was more than just a catchy stage name. She also knew that his powers were equivalent, if not surpassing, the witch's. However, there were some disadvantages to him, as well. Although he was not arrogant like the Harvest King or flighty like the Harvest Goddess, he was indifferent to humans—almost as much as a loner as the witch. Molly worried that he would not care enough to help her. But…he had helped her once, right? So maybe she could convince him to do it again. And she could be _very_ convincing.

It was long shot, but any chance was better than none. Molly's strides became determined, filled with purpose, as a plan formulated in her mind. She could do this. She _will_ do this. Although there were a lot of factors she was leaving to chance, there were two things that Molly knew with absolute certainty.

One: Somehow, she would find a way to free Luke and keep everyone safe.

Two: The Witch Princess will never know what hit her.

* * *

><p><strong>Sneak peak of the next chapter:<strong> Three friends fall right into a trap. Meanwhile, a genius is bested by an idiot, and said idiot is jailed for fungi abuse.

**Riddle:**

There is a hum, swish, then splat

Wherever I am at.

Although you would not use me in your hair,

I am still used on something very near.

A strand of pearls, glistening and white

Is what I love to see, every day and night.

What am I?


	5. Awaken

**Geez, didn't think the update would take this long, but here it is, finally! Hope you all enjoy it, and a massive thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/favorite/followed! **

**Chapter Four**

**Awaken**

_Luke didn't know how long he had been playing at the beach. Whether it was hours or minutes, the sun was still hugging the shimmering shoreline each time he looked. He couldn't remember the last time he had this much fun. The silky sand felt warm between his toes, and his skin was gold and glistening with sweat. In a few more summers, when his body loses its preteen lankiness and the hints of muscles became more pronounced, he would be quite the eye-catcher. _

_Two people were strolling hand-in-hand farther up the shore. Their backs were to him, but their heads were tilted towards each other so Luke could make out their profiles. The man on the left had his hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, and his chin was dark with stubble. He was at least a foot taller and a good deal wider than the woman by his side, and yet he did not seem to tower over her. Even in a plain sundress, the woman's presence was striking. The way she held herself and the vibrant bandana tying back her fair hair made her impossible to overlook._

_Luke sprung up in the air, waving his hand. "Hey, anyone up for a surf?" _

_Neither of them turned. They were too happy in their private bubble to notice anyone but the smiling face next to them. A warmth he couldn't explain spread through his chest as he watched their hands swing between them like young sweethearts. Luke felt as if he belonged there, with them in their bubble. He was about to run to them, when someone tapped him on the shoulder._

_Luke turned around. A girl in a one-piece orange swimsuit was swaying on her feet, smiling at him. A grin had spread on Luke's face before he realized it was there. Something about the way the girl's amber eyes sparkled, almost teasingly, felt so familiar. Her name floated on his tongue, but when his mouth opened, the word had vanished. _

_"__Y-you…" he stammered, his smile wavering. _

_The girl giggled. She spun around and shouted, "Come on, honey-boy. I bet ya can't catch me!" _

_Any puzzlement dissipated as he scampered after her. Their laughter pealed in the warm summer air as they chased each other, their feet flicking up sand. Eventually the girl and her little bobbing pigtails turned to the ocean. The currents rippled around her ankles, then her knees. When she was waist-deep in the turquoise water, she dove in with a splash. _

_"__Now we're talking!" Luke laughed, and plunged in after her. _

_Luke was stunned when freezing waters washed over him. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as every hair on his body stood rigid. He couldn't have dived that deep, and yet he could no longer see the sunshine above him or the sand below. Nor could he catch even a glimpse of the girl. It was pitch-black. _

_Luke tried to swim to the surface, but every time his limbs pushed back the water, there was that much more shoving him down. His lungs burned. The cold seeped into his skin and trailed its icy fingers down his spine. He shuddered. Luke could feel it creeping deeper and deeper inside him, leaching him of energy. Soon his body became heavy and numb, a deadweight. He used the little breath he had left to scream. The darkness sucked up the sound before it had even left his mouth. Soon there was nothing left to sustain him. His limbs grew tired, his struggles weak, and the world dark and silent… _

_Then came a soft glow. Through half-lidded eyes Luke saw a girl swimming through the darkness. It was the same girl from the beach. Around her the water shimmered as if her body was a lantern. As she drifted closer a metamorphosis took place; her frame became slender and lean, her eyes sharpened with resolve, and her pigtails untangled into long ribbons floating behind her. By the time she had reached Luke, he was staring into the face of a woman. _

_"__Molly," Luke mouthed, tiny bubbles floating from his lips as they shaped her name. _

_Molly smiled. She cupped his face with her hands, warm against his cold skin. Their noses bumped together, then their lips, soft and tender. The burning in his lungs was soothed, and he felt energy flowing back into his body. Her warm breath shifted to his ear, and somehow through the water he could hear her whisper._

_"__You must return… Open your eyes…Open and—_

* * *

><p><em>OoOoO<em>

Wake!"

Luke gasped.

Darkness splintered into light and dreams snapped into reality. The memory of amber eyes lingered on the back of his eyelids before fading. Luke's chest rattled up and down as if he had just run a marathon. His shirt was drenched in cold sweat, and the material clung to his back and the cool floor he was laying on.

Wait. When did he lie down? And were those—metal _bars_ above him?

"I knew it," Luke groaned. "I knew it, I knew it, _I knew it_. I'm in jail, aren't I? Owen, you better be in here with me, you big ape."

"This is not… a prison… At least one…not acknowledged…by law…"

The voice. It tickled the back of Luke's mind as if he had heard it before, briefly. The tone reminded him of Chase, who always sounded as bored as he was cold. Luke had come to associate it with an owner who was not one for fun or games. Not that that had ever saved the cook before.

Luke tried to sit up, but his arms and legs wouldn't budge. Stuck _again_? Would it be too much to ask for something that wouldn't pin him down like a bug?

"Er, a little help over here?" Luke squirmed, or tried to. He hoped the owner of the voice didn't share Chase's hobby for frying helpless animals.

"Cease your…struggling..."

A person appeared above him. A dark hood was drawn over the stranger's face so Luke could not make out any features, besides a silvery braid dangling out of the shadows.

"Hi there. If you could just help me up, that'd be really great," Luke said. "And do you have any nachos on you? I think I must've missed dinner by now."

The stranger outstretched a dark hand. Luke thought it was an offer to help him up, but then person raised their hand, palm down, over his forehead.

"Not sure if you know this, but you have to bring your hand a little lower to help me up."

No reaction was elicited from underneath the hood. A shimmering golden drop swelled on each of the stranger's fingertips, like they had been pricked. Luke gaped when the drops spilled without breaking into five long strands. When they were about the size of a forearm, they snapped from the stranger's skin and floated in the air like a broken spider's thread. The strands sparked when the person touched their ends together, linking them into one wide ring.

"D-d-dude, what's with the glowing hula-hoop?" Luke said. His voice cracked. One downside to being frozen to the spot was that you could only yell and possibly spit at the madman who was making a freaky hula-hoop over your head.

"Be still…and the ring…will be harmless…"

"Do you mean the hula-hoop is harmless, or it'll only be harmless if I stay still?"

No reply. Luke watched helplessly as the hoop encircled his head like an oversized crown, and slowly traveled down his face. He winced but felt nothing more than a tickle as it passed over his eyes. Only when the hoop had reached Luke's shoulders did he realize he could move his head freely again. Luke looked to the side and saw the stranger sitting with their legs folded underneath their body.

Although their coat made it harder to see, a black shirt clung close enough to the person's skin that Luke could make out a guy's frame underneath. The person shifted forward and the coat hung looser. Yup, definitely a guy. Mild disappointment nipped at Luke. It would've made a good story if a cute girl had nursed him back to health. Luke shoved the thought away before he could get too attached; he already had a girl at home who knew how to handle an axe.

Luke fidgeted whatever body parts had regained mobility as he waited for the glowing hoop to patch up the rest of him. It wasn't a moment too soon when Luke could bend his arms, twist his torso, and finally wiggle his feet. The hoop passed over his toes, and then drifted up, bobbing about a foot in the air. It slowly shrunk, first into the size of a bracelet, then a ring, then—nothing.

Luke got to his feet, and the man did the same. He was dusting off his trousers when Luke snatched his hand, shaking it up and down. He jerked back as if startled by the contact. Luke wasn't fazed; a lot of people had that reaction while around him, though he didn't know why.

"It feels _so_ good to move again! Lying still is the lamest thing a dude could do." Luke dropped the guy's hand to flex his arms a few times. Once he confirmed his muscles were just as buff as he had left them, he exhaled. Only then did he glance up and notice the other guy staring at him. Or at least Luke thought he was staring; it was hard to tell with a hood over his face.

Saying the first thing that popped into mind, Luke said, "Want me to check them for you?" He made a squeezing gesture with his hand. When the guy didn't respond immediately, Luke lurched forward and grabbed his bicep. That got a response.

_ "__Ventum!" _

A whirling gust of wind appeared out of nowhere and swept Luke off his feet. The wind had already dispersed by the time his butt landed on the metal floor. "What in Goddess's name was that?" Luke exclaimed, more out of shock than anger. He rubbed his sore tailbone and looked up.

The man was still on his feet, entirely unruffled, with only his pushed back hood a sign of the wind having touched him at all. A narrow face a shade or two darker than milked coffee tilted down at Luke. Locks of silvery hair framed two stony eyes, one gold and the other jade. The bicolored gaze was not what made the carpenter's skin crawl, but that one piercing yellow eye. Luke's own unusual pupils had brought him pride when others described them as feline and honey-hued, but the orb that bored into him now was like an eagle's right before it swooped down on its prey.

"You…touched…me…" he said, with no inflection to hint whether Luke should be begging for his life or runing away while he still had it.

Or at least those were the two options a Luke with common sense would consider. The Luke _without_ common sense came up with a third.

"Just to make sure your muscles hadn't become flabby. That happens if you don't chop things enough." He stood up and dusted off his hands. "Not that you really need muscles when you could summon up an extreme, glowing hula-hoop. Oh, and that wind trick, too. Think you could teach me that?"

"Only if magic...runs in…your blood…"

"I did have Lucky Charms for breakfast. Does that count?"

"Lucky…charms? As in…talismans?" He tilted his head so his hair fell over his golden eye, blocking its intensity.

"No, I'm talking about the ultimate cereal ever! Haven't you tried it before?" When Luke received no response besides a bemused look, he made a face. "Just where are you from, anyways?"

It was difficult to tell under the dim light, but Luke thought he saw the man's face reddened when he glanced away. Was he…embarrassed? Such a normal reaction brought out the humanity hidden underneath his unusual features, and Luke felt less afraid.

"I have not been to…my homeland…in many…years…" He fingered the odd chain linked around his neck. "My…residence lies…in Castanet…"

"But—but that's where I live." Then it clicked in Luke's mind, where he had heard his voice before. Many summers ago, when Owen and him were still just kids, a rumor had floated around that a fortuneteller under the name of Wizard had moved to the island. No one but Mayor Hamilton had seen him, and even the loquacious mayor had been unwilling to pass on information, only saying the newcomer was an 'odd, quiet sort of fellow'. The fortuneteller had never stepped out of his dingy, and quickly dusty, house; and not from the villagers' lack of trying, either.

It had been only natural the children thrived on the mysteriousness of it all, and soon every child had heard the whispers about Wizard really being a vampire or an unfortunate soul cursed when he had neglected to sacrifice his cucumbers to a kappa. (It could happen.) Being the boys they were, Owen and Luke had dared each other to run up to the fortuneteller's house and knock on his door three times. It had to be the night of a full moon, because everybody knew it was the only night vampires wouldn't step outside in fear of werewolves on the hunt.

Their belts bulging with garlic and crosses they had _borrowed_ from Perry, Owen and Luke had snuck out at midnight to meet each other. It had taken ten minutes and seven matches of rock-paper-scissors to decide who would fulfill their dare first, and twenty minutes and another match more for them to agree they would go at the same time. The boys had crept through Harmonica Town, each one trying to fake more confidence than the other, until they were face to face with the fortuneteller's foreboding front door. A low, murmuring voice had come from the other side of the wood before Luke and Owen could even raise their trembling fists. They had shared a look and pressed their ears against the door.

At first all they could hear was a low mumble. Then the voice rose, and they could make out what had sounded like a chant. The words had been old and unrecognizable, but made the hair on the back of theirs necks stand on end. A flash of light had exploded from the curtained window, and before they could scream _goddess, _Luke and Owen had made a run for it. The next morning when they had recounted their adventure to their classmates, albeit with a more courageous light on their part, they had been practically hero-worshipped for a full season.

Now Luke gaped at the man before him, goose bumps spreading on his skin as if he was in front of that ominous door again, about to knock on the den of the beast. "It's you, isn't?" he said. "You're the fortuneteller. Wizard."

Wizard tipped his head. His expression was a blank; Luke couldn't tell if he was disappointed his identity was out or if he was pleased to be recognized. Though Luke didn't see how he would have recognized him, or anyone else for that matter, if he hadn't heard his voice before.

"So you can really do magic? Not just reading palms or fortunes or whatever, but real, actual magic?"

Wizard raised a thin eyebrow. "Palmistry…and fortunetelling…are their own veins…of distinctive…magic…"

"I guess, but it's not much compared to the bibbidi-bobbidi-boo thing you did with the hula-hoop."

"I am not…versed in this…class of wizardry…" Wizard crossed his arms as if in defense of his knowledge being doubted. "Does it correlate…with incantations?"

"Incan-what now? No. I mean like the song in Cinderella. You know, with the godmother swishing her wand and singing—forget it." Luke shook his head when the fortuneteller looked more puzzled than ever. "What are you doing here? Wait, where is _here_ again?"

Luke turned around slowly and took in his surroundings for the first time. It really did look like a jail cell. All around were metal bars stretching far beyond his head to form a domed ceiling. A horizontal rod was fixed between two bars. Luke didn't see any purpose in it. It was so high up he couldn't reach it by jumping, and there was nothing he could use to climb to it. Maybe it was a badly designed coat rack? The rest of the cell was empty—no bed, no table, not even a chair.

Outside was an entirely different view. At one side of the cell he could reach between the bars and touch a window. The curtains might as well have been drawn for all the view it offered. Beyond the glass was nothing but an undulating mass of gray. Luke didn't remember hiking through fog. Even he had enough sense to know that was a stupid idea. And he knew about stupid ideas!

Luke crossed to the other side of the cell and looked out. This was a more promising view—and a more confusing one, too. The one-room house appeared rather average, if he excluded the herbs strung across the ceiling like garlands and the oversized cooking pot in the corner. What was _not_ average was the furniture. Every piece was so tall that his six-foot body could stand underneath with ample space above him. He felt as if he had wandered into a bear's den, just like he had told the Witch Princess. Hold on—_Witch Princess?_

Just like that, his memories crashed over him. The Witch Princess. Molly's strained voice. Him racing to her, only to be immobilized with a flick of the witch's finger. Luke squeezed his eyes shut. His hand gripped the bar in front of him and tugged. It didn't budge.

"Please tell me you were kidding about not being in jail. That you were arrested because you're a madman who keeps bodies under your rug, and the only reason I'm here is because Gill framed me to get back at me for reading his diary. Or just say I'm dreaming. That would work, too." Luke peered at the taciturn Wizard. "On second thought, I would've dreamt about being locked in a cell with Molly rather than you. No offense, dude."

Wizard didn't look offended, just bored. "You are not…in a prison…and I have not spilled…a drop of blood…without merit…"

Was it Luke's imagination, or was Wizard's last pause longer than the others? Luke shuddered. "So what I remembered really did happen? The witch put us in this cage?"

Wizard nodded.

"And she really did turn me into a bird?"

Another nod.

"Was I a pretty bird?"

He nodded, before catching himself. He murmured warily, "An average…Blue Jay specimen…"

"But Blue Jays are pretty, right?"

Wizard frowned. "The curse is…unusually potent… It not only turned…your brain…to that of a bird's…but your ego into…a peacock's."

"Aww, thanks man."

"T'was…not a compliment..."

Luke smiled despite the jibe. So Wizard did have some character to him after all. Good. Magic or not, Luke didn't think he could handle being locked up with someone who had as much personality as a textbook.

"So why did the witch turn us into birds? Couldn't we have been, like, armadillos?"

"Why…specifically…the dasypodidae family?"

"Daisy-what now?"

"An _armadillo_…"

"Oh." Luke shrugged, then grinned. "Paolo told me how he could a roll a duck egg off Hamilton's roof. Imagine if he could swap that egg for one awesome armadillo—ahem—_me_. I'd never have to pay for a roller coaster ride ever again!"

Apparently years spent cooped up in his house with little more than books and a telescope made Wizard a fast learner. Wizard took a long look at him, deemed him garrulous, and redirected the conversation.

"Inconspicuousness would be the…primary objective…for the Witch Princess… Aves—_birds_—" he added, remembering his audience, "are commonplace and simple…to manipulate." His faced darkened. "A pragmatic approach…but deplorable… She should have known mortals…could only endure so much…magical tampering…before their health…deteriorates."

Luke didn't understand most of what he had said, but he got the gist. A shudder ran down his spine. "So that nightmare I had, like I was drowning, was caused because the witch had used too much magic on me?"

"Yes… If you had underwent any more…your body may not…have survived… For the Witch Princess to be…so negligent…is disgraceful…"

The tip of Wizard's lip curled slightly in disdain. Luke couldn't tell whether the fortuneteller cared more about his wellbeing, or the fact the Witch Princess had broken whatever supernatural code they shared. Luke worried at the tail of his rumpled bandana. Disgraceful or not, at least the witch had enough decency to make his clothes reappear when his human body had. While he considered himself rather easygoing, he wouldn't go _that_ far.

Luke laughed, and even to his own ears it sounded shaky. "Guess it's a good thing I'm not a bird anymore, huh?"

"For the time being…"

"_For the time being?_ You're telling me I'm gonna sprout feathers again?"

Wizard nodded. "The reach of magic…relies on distance… When the witch returns...so shall the spell… When she is gone…the spell costs too much magic…to sustain…"

"So as long as she's not here, we're humans, right?"

"Yes… She took a walk soon … after her visitor left…" The tip of Wizard's lips curved into possibly the smallest of smiles. "The witch was very…_distressed_…"

Another memory rushed into Luke's mind in vivid color. The Witch Princess as petite and pale as a porcelain doll, but pulsating with power, and Molly trying to stay strong, yet was clearly outmatched. He could hear her voice as taut as a rope, and see her amber eyes struggling to hide her fear. Luke trembled; the urge to punch the metal walls until his fists were bruised became almost overwhelming.

"Is Molly—did she—"

"Do not fret…" Wizard said. "I saw her leave…unharmed…"

Even as Luke exhaled in relief, another emotion was pricking his chest. She…left him? Just like that? Luke shook his head. It was more important that she was safe, not him.

Apparently Wizard saw right through him. "Do not doubt Molly… She is astute…and knows to bide…her time… She will come…" As he said this, Luke could've sworn the harsh lines of Wizard's face softened with…hope? Pride? Affection? Whatever it was, Luke did not like it.

"You know Molly?" Luke tried to keep his tone light, but the fortuneteller arched an eyebrow anyway.

"I helped her once…seasons ago… Nothing more…"

Luke instantly brightened. "Glad to hear it. Now that we've cleared that up, let's get down to business." He rubbed his hands together. "Got anything to eat?"

When he got received a more standoffish look than usual, Luke threw his hands up. "What? A growing boy needs his food, and I haven't eaten since lunch—which I barfed up."

"You are twenty-four years…four months…and sixteen days old…You are no longer…growing…"

"How did you—" Luke spurted, at the same time a pop came from behind him. Luke whirled around. As if an invisible cloth had been whisked off, a bird feeder appeared where there had been nothing but air just seconds ago. It was brimming with black and white striped seeds.

"Seriously?" Luke said. "Can you even eat those?"

Wizard glided past him and plucked one of the seeds. He popped it into his mouth without a word. "A Helianthus annuus ovule…or simply a sunflower seed…" he clarified, the shell crunching as he chewed. "'Tis high in vitamin E…

The look on Luke's face was of pure disgust. "Uh-uh, no way! That is _not_ food; it's wood chippings you'd feed to a dog when no one's looking."

The Wizard continued munching, unsympathetic. "'Tis the witch's version…of a joke… I hypothesize…this will be…the only food… available…"

Luke raced to the edge of the cage and throttled the bars with a new desperation. "We have to get outta here!"

"I was calculating…how long it would take…for you to reach…that conclusion…"

Before Luke could figure out if he was being sarcastic, if such a thing even computed with him, Wizard had turned and was staring out the cage. He squinted his eyes as if scrutinizing something other than metal bars and oversized furniture. Luke stared where he thought the wizard was looking, but saw nothing that would demand such attention. Just when Luke thought he was going cross-eyed, the air outside of the cage shimmered. Luke blinked, hard, but the air was still dancing with twinkling lights. He tried to pinpoint where it stemmed from, but the light flowed from the ceiling and down the sides of the cage like a canopy of stars. It was…breathtaking, mesmerizing like a waterfall.

"I would not…"

Luke started. He looked down, and saw his own hand poking through the bars, so close to the shimmering air he could feel his fingers tingle. Somehow he knew that if his hand went any further, he would feel more than just tingles. Luke drew his hand.

Wizard nodded at the twinkling lights. "A barrier…one of many the Witch Princess has conjured…to hinder escape…"

Luke whistled, impressed. "So what would it do if I touched it? Would it knock me out? Throw me back? Dye my skin blue?"

"No… The barrier you see…may look…intimidating…but it is of little consequence…"

"That's a good thing, right? We can march through and be home in time for dinner."

"Only if you wish…to consume your seared flesh…" The stars gleamed in Wizard's green eye like jade when he touched the canopy with his finger. The light rippled under his touch. "This spell…was used centuries ago…to create a sanctuary for hunted…witches and wizards. Anyone who touched the barrier…without magic in their veins…would suffer the wrath…of lightning."

Luke's hands jerked up, as if to say _I didn't touch it! _

"'Tis the witch's irony…" hummed the fortuneteller. "Rather than…keeping humans out…it is locking one…within…"

_"_But it's not stopping you from getting out. Right?" Luke looked at the fortuneteller hopefully._ "Right?"_

"Yes…"

When Wizard took sudden interest in the cuff of his sleeve, Luke prompted, _"But?"_

"It cannot block me…" he said slowly, "but there are…at least a dozen…beyond it…designed to negate…my magic..."

"So even if you did get through this spell you'd still be stuck." Luke groaned, knotted his hands behind his head, and paced furiously in a circle. Wizard ticked off on his fingers eleven seconds, a second more than he had expected, before Luke became bored and stomped his boot. The cage rattled.

"We can't just sit here and do nothing!" he burst out. "Molly risked her life to come here. I know she's still looking for me, so it's only fair that I don't give up when she won't. You and I are going to find our way outta here, even if it means I have to carry your boring butt every step of the way!"

As soon as the words had shot out, Luke realized maybe he shouldn't have threatened the butt of a guy who could summon magical hula-hoops. They were silent but deadly…

Wizard's brow twitched, but otherwise showed no more emotion than usual.

"There might be a way…" Wizard hummed tentatively. "Like the bird-shifting spell the barrier…requires a continuous energy to…be sustained… As the witch…is not present to feed it…the spell must be bound…to something else… However, the witch would know to…hide the anchor out of reach… It is improbable…but if the tether between…the spell and its anchor…were to be broken…you could escape the cage…unharmed…"

"Sounds good to me." Luke was practically bouncing from excitement. "All you have to do is point, and I'll go break whatever needs to broken."

"Have you listened…to anything I've said?" Wizard retorted.

"Not really."

Wizard frowned, each second looking more and more like a schoolteacher whose patience was being tried. "The task is…virtually impracticable…The witch would know better…than to bind such a key enchantment…to an item within…our reach… It could be anything…within this hut…and not only would we have to…locate the item…but also reach it when we…cannot even pass a hand…through the cage…. To even think of finding…such a thing—"

The air crackled; blue sparks rained down the barrier, and all at once the starry lights blinked out like a disconnected computer screen.

"Found it."

Luke had slipped away sometime during Wizard's lecture, and now leaned against the far end of their confines, his arms crossed over his red shirt. Next to him the door of the cage swung open like a gaping mouth.

"I guess nobody told the witch to lock up before she leaves." He smirked and flourished a hand to his forehead in a mock-salute. "Seems like magic can make you forget the simple stuff."

"To anchor a spell…to the door itself…" Wizard shook his head. "Highly illogical…"

"Good thing I'm not logical," Luke remarked, smirk widening to a Cheshire cat smile. "And I didn't see you check if the door was locked, either."

Wizard's eyes narrowed to slits, but behind the indignation, he thought he could see a glimmer of begrudging admiration.

He detached from the wall and waved the fortuneteller over. "You coming or not?"

"There are other spells...in place… You cannot see them...but I can," Wizard pointed to his yellow eye, glinting in the dim light like a gold coin. "You are free to go…but I must stay behind…"

Before he had even finished speaking, Luke was shaking his head. "Nuh-uh, dude. Cagemates stick together."

Wizard had less practice masking his voice than his expression, and surprise trickled into his tone. "You would risk your own freedom…for my own?"

"Oh." Suddenly Luke didn't look so confident. He tugged on the front of his bandana, as if the cloth could provide cover from Wizard's increasingly piercing stare. "I was about to say you're my only shot of getting out of here alive, but sure, what you said sounds cooler."

"Unsurprising…" Wizard sighed. "I have seen the witch conceal… a box of powdered…Fugue Mushroom…underneath the bed… Retrieve it…"

Luke scrunched his face. "The Witch Princess mentioned that mushroom before. I don't know much about fungus besides the one that grows between Pops' toes, but I don't get why this one is so important."

"To typical homo sapiens…it is not…" Wizard murmured. "However, to one who practices…the magical arts…it is invulnerable. Fugue Mushrooms are the sole vegetation…able to absorb the purest of moonbeams…attainable only at twilight… The harnessed energy…which generates the fungi's luminosity…can then be applied to either…power a spell…or what we shall attempt…to break one."

Luke nodded. "Something about mushrooms and moonlight. Got it. So where's the box again?"

This time Wizard didn't even try to repeat himself. With one hand he massaged his temple, and the other he pointed at the bed.

"Totally knew that," Luke said to no one in particular. He jumped through the barred door, and as he passed, he could feel the cobwebs of the spell clinging to his face. They slipped off him before he could raise a hand to brush them away. A familiar tingling traveled up and down his skin, followed by a wave of dizziness. Just when he remembered where he had felt the tingling before, his body stretched as if he had nibbled an Alice in Wonderland cake. He felt himself tip down, down, down, and the dizziness cleared in time for him to see the floor rising quickly to meet him.

Luke had only enough time to put his arms in front of him before he crash-landed. There was an _oof_, followed by some extremely colorful language.

"Oh, yes…" Wizard's monotone drifted from above. "Your body reverts to…its original size…once you leave the cage… Did I forget to…mention that?"

"You might've," Luke grumbled, sitting up to his natural six-foot height. Although the tingling had dulled, his knees and elbows stung from the fall, and the rest of his body ached. He wondered if this was how taffy feels after it's stretched. Luke braced his hand against the windowsill as he got to his feet. The birdcage that rested on the windowsill came only to his waist; it looked more capacious when he had been inside. Luke crouched over until he was eye-level with the Wizard.

When his aunt and uncle had introduced Luke to his cousin for the first time, he had been in awe at how fragile Bo had appeared. Even his pudgy little fingers had looked like they would snap if Luke held them at the wrong angle. The same awe came over Luke as he gawked at the miniature Wizard, who was no taller than a Post-It note.

"You look like one of Chloe's dolls. Except smaller. And meaner." Luke said. "She could probably sew you a new costume if you get tired of cosplaying a warlock. She loves dress up."

Luke reached out with his finger to touch the Wizard, but the icy glare he got was enough to make him drop his hand.

"Fine, fine, have it your way. Just watch out if Chloe comes around."

Luke stood up; he had to hunch over to avoid bumping his head on the ceiling. Now that he wasn't the size of a bird, the hut looked a lot smaller than it had first appeared. All of it could have fit inside the carpentry with room to spare. Luke thought it was a miracle the witch wasn't stir-crazy from living here. Oh, wait, she was.

Luke glanced at the door. There was only so much time before the witch came back, and if she caught him in the middle of his escape… Luke shuddered. He sprinted to the closet by the front door and started rummaging through a mountain of black dresses.

"Wha…what are you doing?" Wizard exclaimed.

"Gotta find my axe!"

"You would sacrifice our lives…for an _axe_?"

"It's not _an_ axe, it's _my_ axe! Now where is it?" Luke yelled back, now on his knees and uprooting the black shoes that littered the floor.

Wizard canted his head. "Perhaps…it is beneath the bed?"

"Why would she put it there?"

"Why would she put it…in a closet?"

"Because that's where you stuff coats and umbrellas and outdoorsy things…like an axe." Luke straightened. "Bed. Right."

He darted to the bed and dropped to his knees. His elbows stung where he had scraped them on the gaudy pink carpet, but he ignored it as he peered underneath. There was too little light to see anything but murky shadows. Luke groped around in the darkness, sticking out his arm until the mattress was pressing against the side of his head.

"I can't find it!" he yelled after a moment of searching.

"Feel for an indentation…" Wizard advised. "There may be…a trapdoor."

"This is one tricky witch," Luke grunted.

His hands searched the boards, snagging a few splinters in the process, until his nails caught on a groove. With further probing, Luke discovered the groove connected to three more outlining the trapdoor. At no time did his fingers bump into a hinge or other opening mechanism as he traced the lines. Luke pried at the edges but the door didn't so much as creak. The side of his mouth quirked upwards. There was nothing better than a challenge.

In less than minute his thumb had slipped into a dip no bigger than a penny. It would have been impossible to find if someone hadn't already known it was there or lacked the training of a carpenter. For someone so ignorant of locks, the witch certainly knew a thing or two about hiding places.

Luke pressed down, and grinned when he heard the creak of a hinge. The trapdoor swung down and a cloud of dust puffed in his face. Suppressing a cough, Luke dropped to his belly and awkwardly bent his elbow, reaching into the compartment. His fingertips grazed the cool bottom, before bumping into something hard. "Come to papa," he chuckled. As he struggled to get both hands on the object, his smile dropped to a frown. Whatever he had, it was _not_ his axe.

Luke grunted when he finally pulled up the item and dropped it in his lap. It was a small chest like the one Pops had built for him when he was a kid to store his toys in. The hinge was so loose from years of use the lid practically flew open at Luke's touch. The chest was half-full with what appeared like ordinary sand.

Luke turned around to look at the fortuneteller. "I like making a sandcastle as much as the next dude, but you said I would find my axe—not the witch's litter box. "

Wizard brought a hand to his mouth and said, "Cough… Cough…"

"Need a cough drop?"

_"Look down_…" Wizard sighed.

Luke did, and saw that the grains were glimmering with a light as white and pure like moonbeams. _No, not 'like'_, Luke corrected, the wizard's words coming back to him.

"Oh. The powder…" mumbled Luke. He peered at the fortuneteller. "My axe was never under the bed, was it?"

Wizard nodded, with no attempt at lying.

"Is it even in the hut?"

He shook his head.

"But you knew where the powder was all along."

He nodded.

"So you basically tricked me to get it."

"It was an…experiment…" Wizard cleared his throat. "My results suggest you are…unaffected by the natural propensity…to lose your willingness to trust…as you age..."

"You just called me gullible in smart-talk, didn't you?"

Another nod.

Luke sat still, then breathed out a long huff of air. "I'm starting to not like you," he said without looking at Wizard. He stood up with the box in hand, and dusted off his jeans in case the fugue powder had gotten on him. No reason to be careless around magic mushrooms that may or may not be FDA-approved.

"Hurry… The witch may return…any moment." Wizard clung to the bars as the carpenter strove over.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm come—" Luke froze mid-step. His nose furrowed, twitching like a bunny.

"What are you—" Wizard's eyes widened. "Goddess, no…"

Luke's brow twitched; he leaned back. "Ah—"

Wizard pressed his face against the bars. "Resist…"

_ "__AH—"_

"I forbid you to—"

_"—__CHOO!"_

"Sneeze…" Wizard sighed, at the same time Luke's body jerked forward.

The carpenter clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. The powder had shot into the air like a mushroom cloud. Luke had no choice but to inhale after the sneeze, and the powder funneled through his nostrils, into his system.

Suddenly he felt very, very, very_ funny._

"Luke…Luke…" Wizard called from the cage.

"Luuu-ke." The carpenter's lips puckered as they strung out the syllables. "Luke. Nuke. Puke." He burst into giggles. "Hey, why didn't anyone ever tell me my name rhymes with puke? Puuu-ke."

"Listen to me…" Wizard said in an even sterner voice than usual. "You have been intoxicated… Try to focus… Bring the powder to me…

Luke drew a happy face in the powder. The grains felt smooth. Very, very smooth. Does smooth rhyme with Luke?

"Stop that…" Wizard ground out. "There is little time to waste… Witch Princess will be here any—"

He whirled around as the door slammed against the wall. Just like in a horror movie, tendrils of fog slithered around Witch Princess as she loomed in the doorway. As soon as her black heel clicked on the threshold, Luke's ears popped as if the air pressure had changed. A chirping sound from above caught his attention. He looked up just in time to see yellow feathers sprout from the last of Wizard's tawny skin. Where the fortuneteller once stood, was now a Yellow Warbler. Even in bird form Wizard somehow looked both resigned and irritated at the same time, like Chase. Luke pondered what the cook would look like as a bird.

Although the Witch Princess was a head shorter than Luke, her combative stance made her as fearsome as a brooding storm. A growl rumbled in her throat when she saw that her prisoner was neither in a cage nor a bird's body. She sucked in a breath when she recognized the opened chest in his hands.

"You _dare_ meddle with the property of a witch?" she hissed, eyes glowing red. A sound like thunder rumbled in the hut, and suddenly the chest was gone and Luke was holding nothing but empty air.

Luke looked down at his hands, turning them overs slowly, and blinked.

"Puke." Luke bent over, cackling. He was oblivious to the psychopathic witch mere feet away.

Witch Princess's silvery hair stood on end like a frightened cat. Except this cat was more furious than frightened. "You dare _laugh_ at me, mortal?"

This time Luke did face her. "You say dare a lot, don't you? Ooh, ooh, can we play truth or dare? Can we, can we, can we?"

He bounced on the balls of his feet, though he quickly forgot why he was bouncing, and was entranced by the feel of his hair flopping against the back of his neck. It reminded him of how Chief's tail felt when it swished his legs. Was this how girls felt, with their ponytails? Maybe he should ask a girl. Lucky girls…

It took a long stretch of time before it registered that the witch was staring at him. "This is fun." He turned to her, still bouncing.

Witch Princess's eyes were no longer glowing red, but swirls of pink still lingered in her irises. "You breathed in the Fugue powder, didn't you?"

"This is fun."

"Idiot," she muttered. The Yellow Warbler chirped, apparently in agreement.

"This is fun." Luke tried to bounce to the ceiling, in hopes of being a kangaroo, with little success.

Witch Princess sighed, looking more worn out than angry. She snapped her fingers; Luke froze mid-bounce, falling to his butt. A bright blue colored his skin so it looked as if he was wearing a skin-tight full body suit. "This is _not_ fun," Luke groaned, as his body shrank to that of a Blue Jay.

**And there you have it! **

**On a quick note, I apologize if some of you thought the pauses in Wizard's dialogue were tedious. I struggled with how much emphasis I should put on his speech pattern, before coming to a compromise that will not only stay true to his personality, but will also show some subtle character development along the way. Ooh, have I peaked your curiosities now? **

**Also, I took a few liberties with Wizard's personality, since I never talked to him much in the game outside of the main story. Hopefully y'all still like him!**

**Answer to last chapter's riddle: Toothbrush.**

**New Riddle:**

_I am there when you purse your lips,_

_Yet I disappear with every kiss._

_The most beautiful music I bring,_

_Yet you will never hear me sing._


	6. Locks and Lights

**I have only now realized how many stories there are pairing Bo and Luna together. While I think they did make Luna nicer in Animal Parade, when I picture those two together… (shudders) It's like Chase and Maya all over again! (Eh, only those who have read my author notes in ****_The Thousand Lumber Bet_**** will get that…)**

**Cotton Candy Mareep: Thanks for your compliment! Yeah, when four of your main characters have similar eye colors, you learn to differentiate ****_really_**** fast. It's good to hear that Luke and Wizard's interactions were entertaining, and that I'm not butchering the fortuneteller. Fun fact, but when I first started writing them, I actually used BeastBoy and Raven from ****_Teen Titans_**** as a reference to get a feel of their relationship. (Although Wizard isn't nearly as cranky as Raven is…usually…)**

**XxTinyxX: Thank you so much for your patience and dedication! Luke is ****_always_**** a goof; there's no avoiding it, and Wizard does have his moments, too. Excellent guess on the riddle! ;)**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Locks and Lights<span>**

**Chapter Five:**

Owen smacked his palm with his fist. "Silver! Girls like silver, don't they?"

"They like it better when it's not the size of a pea and stuck in a rock," Chloe said, expecting her cousin's visualization of silver to be different than most.

Her prediction proved accurate when the miner swore. "Why can't girls appreciate things in their natural state? Like mud pies."

"Carrot juice is natural," Bo offered from the back of the group.

As if he had never spoken, Chloe continued, "Girls go gaga over jewelry. And lucky for you, you live right next door to a jeweler."

"But carrot juice is Kathy's favorite."

Bo's words were drowned out by the miner's sigh. "And there goes my savings."

"Molly can give you the vegetables for—"

"What savings? You spend every cent you have on weights and cocktails."

"Not true! Yesterday I bought a Snickers bar."

Bo gave a little sigh of his own. Thereon he walked without speaking behind his friends as they fought over what was and what wasn't a waste of money. At one point he was tempted to break his silence when Owen said that no one could go on living without at least one bobble head for each day of the month.

The group of three had already left Harmonica Town behind, making their way on the dirt path that snaked through the grass to Castanet's farmland. It passed through Molly's property, and overlooked the field she had nurtured diligently until the earth was rich and the harvest richer. Half of the field was bursting with the blooms of cosmos, bluemists, and moondrop flowers, while the other half had green heads of carrots and spinach sprouting out of rows of dark soil. Beyond the crops were her chicken coop and barn. The red paint was peeling, but the buildings stood tall and sturdy.

The farm owner herself was coming from the other side of the trail from Flute Fields. She stumbled when she noticed them. "Molly! Molly!" Chloe squealed. She was the first of the three to race ahead, followed by Owen, who shouted for her to slow down.

"Wait for me!" Bo scrambled after them. By the time he caught up, Molly had righted herself just in time for Chloe to tackle her in a hug. By the look on her face, it was the rib breaking one that no one expected from such a skinny girl. Bo had been the recipient of enough to sympathize when Molly struggled not to grimace.

She gently but firmly disentangled herself from Chloe's arms. "I know the boys are terrible, but they can't be that bad."

Chloe scrunched up her nose. "Trust me, they can. They couldn't agree on anything this afternoon, so we had to just lie around the carpentry doing nothing. _Bo-ring._"

"Like you were offering any suggestions," said Owen, ruffling his cousin's hair.

"Watch the pigtails!" Chloe ducked away from his hand. "And I was the one who decided we'd find Molly and Luke. Remember?" She poked him in the arm and Owen retaliated. It didn't take long before a mini-poke fight broke out.

Bo had been watching quietly from the back of the group since they had gathered around Molly. Unlike Luke, whose approach to life was to dive into the thick of things, Bo preferred blending into the background where he could observe others in peace. Most people mistook his solitude for shyness, but they were only partly correct. For him it was a game of perceptiveness few knew he played. It was the reason he knew Kathy would appreciate carrot juice like her mother used to make rather than jewelry. It was also the reason why Bo noticed the tiny crease in Molly's brow even as she smiled at her friends.

"I've been gone for an afternoon and you guys already miss me?"

"Call it Molls-withdrawal. We get edgy without our daily dose of crazy." Owen quipped.

"Speaking of crazy," Chloe said, "why isn't Looney-Lukey with you?"

The corner of Molly's lip twitched before curving into a smirk. "He's still in the forest, talking to a tree, no doubt. I'm on my way to grab some dinner for us so we can have a picnic out there."

"Ooh, a picnic! We can come, too, right?"

It would be like Chloe to invite herself to someone else's date. Bo tapped her on the shoulder. "Maybe we should let them be alone. I don't want to bother."

"Count me in." Owen slapped a hand on his stomach. "I'm starving! I could go fishing in the river if anyone's in the mood for seafood."

"Just because you catch a fish doesn't mean it's seafood," Chloe gibed, earning a push just strong enough to knock her back a step.

"I don't know. We're pretty far in the forest," Molly said. "Besides, it'll be dark soon. You don't want to find yourself on the other end of Witch Princess's broom, do you?"

Bo shuddered at the mention of the witch, but Owen snorted. "We've been going to the forest longer than you have, Molls, and the only broomstick I'm afraid of is Irene's when she gets mad." Now it was the miner's turn to shudder. "I'll take some batty witch over her, day or night."

Personally, Bo would have picked Irene. The nurse would always sneak him lollipops after a check-up, and cover his scratches with Band-Aids that were decorated with goldfish. Not that he cared about things like that.

"Want a bet?" Molly mumbled under her breath. She sighed and rubbed the side of her arm, where the brisk air had raised goose bumps. "At least let me stop by my house so I can grab a jacket."

"I don't think I've seen the inside of your house before," Bo commented, although this was no fault of the farmer. It was rare for Bo to travel outside his familiar bounds of Harmonica Town or the Garmon Mine District. More often than note he would be found whittling carvings in some nook of the carpentry. Unlike his friends, Bo had little interest in the east side of the island, outside of attending the festivals at Flute Fields. Far, far away from the forest.

"It's not much, but you can come if you want to see it so badly." Molly paused. "Why don't I give everyone a grand tour? I just remembered there's some pie in the fridge we could take for our picnic, too."

"You got me on the word 'pie'," Owen said dreamily. He hooked his arm around Molly's shoulders, nearly toppling the petite woman. "Lead the way, Molly-Dolly."

"I can't lead anywhere if you squash me, you oaf!" The farmer grunted as she shoved his weight off of her. She glared at him when he started to laugh. Starting on the path, she snapped over her shoulder, "You don't deserve pie. There's a field. Go there, and eat grass or something."

"More pie for me!" Chloe skipped to Molly's side, with Owen and Bo trailing behind.

As they walked the short distance to Molly's house, an odd feeling at the back of his head nagged at Bo. He thought something seemed off about Molly, something more than just irritation from Owen's teasing. Her strides had more force behind them than necessary, and she kept glancing over at Flute Fields so often that Owen had to right her once when she stumbled on the uneven terrain, almost twisting her ankle. "Careful not to drink any more, Molls. You don't want to give Luke any encouragement, do you? Unless you do want—_ha!_ Should've gone for a slap. Abs of steel, remember? _Ow!"_

Owen was rubbing his jaw when they arrived at Molly's front porch. They waited as she fumbled for her keys. "Crap," she muttered, when the keys slipped from her shaky hands. Chloe bent down, but Bo had already retrieved them, nearly bonking his head with the girl's as he rose.

He held them out for the farmer, and she took them without meeting his eyes. "Are you alright, Molly?"

"Yeah. I'm just cold."

She inserted the key into the lock. A click, and Molly opened the door. The house was dimly lit, but Chloe didn't hesitate to skip inside, and her cousin followed just as quick. Bo motioned for Molly to go first, but she just held the door wider for him. He glanced back, saw her pursue her lips, before going inside. He had barely taken two steps before he heard the slam and the click of the deadbolt behind him.

OoOoOoO

She could still hear them pounding on the door and calling out her name as she ran away. She did not dare look back, lest she saw their confused faces watching her go. Molly wrapped her arms around herself to suppress a shiver, but there was no stopping the cold in her heart.

A day. That's it—one day. How could everything go so wrong in so little time? How could she have lost Luke and betrayed their friends within hours of each other?

_It's for their own good, _she reminded herself sternly. They were better betrayed than hurt.

She knew Owen and Chloe would not have given up on their picnic. When they set their minds to something they would become difficult, at best, but when put together? Trying to change their minds would be as effective as covering her crops with umbrellas to protect them from a typhoon. And she knew Bo would follow the cousins' lead because he was too polite, too gentle, to raise a fuss.

If Molly had taken them to the Fugue Forest, her lie about Luke would have lasted only as long as she could lead them in circles. As soon as she would be forced to explain why she could not take them to him—probably before, knowing the cousins' patience—they would have had one foot in the Witch's hut and the other in their graves before she could yell _stop_. She could just see Bo: his face, still full with the innocence of a child, being disfigured with horror as the witch whipped her magic at him. All because he had trusted her. Molly couldn't let that happen. Not only because Luke would never be the same if his family was at the witch's mercy, but also because they were _her_ friends, too.

The sky was a dusty rose and the streetlamps were already lit by the time Molly arrived at Harmonica Town. The soft lights from the rows of windows from shops and houses cast the area in a warm glow that Molly had grown to love. It made her feel calmer, comforted with the knowledge that the townsfolk still went about their peaceful lives, untroubled by any dilemma she may have. She spotted no one out in the chilly weather, apart from Luna taking her nightly walk near the tailoring shop. Of course when Molly wanted to feel the most at peace, _she_ would be there. Molly took the longer way past the inn to avoid her. Normally she could tolerate Luna's barely disguised jibes, but if she had to hear about her poor taste in clothes or "blue-haired woodpeckers," she just might peck out the other girl's eyes. Can't criticize what you can't see.

Molly hastened up the steps to the second level of the town. Soon she was face-to-face with Wizard's front door. A thin rectangular sign with paint chipped away at the corners hung from a nail, and written in a curving script were simply THE FORTUNTELLER, and his hours below. Below this was a detailed painting of tarot cards splayed in an arc, as if a hand was showing them to a volunteer. Whenever Molly saw this sign she was surprised Irene or Perry hadn't scratched the art out, for The Lovers card was front and center in the deck, right at eyelevel. Perhaps it was Wizard's way of drawing in the horny males and lovesick females, although Molly had trouble picturing him as a girl peppered him with questions about her future husband.

"Ooh, will he be handsome? Is his hair brown or black? How many children will we have? Will he remember to put down the toilet seat? Hey! Are you even listening?"

"No…"

With that thought in mind, Molly rapped her knuckles on the door—and it creaked open. Inside the house was dark and motes of dust swirled in the moonlight leaking from the doorway. "Wizard? Are you in there?" Molly's voice sounded thin to her own ears as it echoed throughout the space. No answer. He could be sleeping, Molly reasoned; then again she had seen his bed tucked away in a corner during her earlier visits, and it had never looked disturbed.

Her heart pounded against her chest as she peered into the dark house. She sucked in a breath and stepped inside. A chill crept down her spine; the stone floor hoarded the cold so it felt like she was in a dungeon rather than a home. It looked abandoned without its master to haunt it. Thick drapes blocked the light that would have streamed from the glass alcove on the ceiling, where Wizard would spend hours stargazing from. The fabric rustled from the draft, and Molly thought they were like black waves undulating over her head. It was both mesmerizing and haunting.

The only illumination in the room came from a crystal ball sitting on a table. Little lights, like flecks of gold, floated within the globe. Wizard had read Molly's palms there. He had murmured something about her bond with the earth being strong. Molly had snorted. She could've told him that, seeing as she was a farmer and all. Now she wondered if he had also read the calamity she would have to fix in her lifeline, or the emotional struggle tearing her apart in her heart line.

Half a dozen candles with long dribbles of dried wax were arranged in a semi-circle around the crystal ball. Molly pinched one of the curled wicks; it was cold to the touch. She knew how assiduous Wizard could be with his candles: "The length…of the candles…and their arrangement…affects the spell's…potency," he had explained to her once. To see them abandoned like this made the dread weighing on her chest grow heavier.

She turned her attention back to the ball, where the crystal was catching the flecks of light so each one fragmented into hundreds of others like fireworks. They crisscrossed and floated, danced and swirled, and Molly didn't feel so afraid, so cold anymore. Wizard had always made sure her hands had stayed in her lap when he had read his crystal ball for her, though she never understood his caution. The longer she stared at the orb the more the weight in her chest eased and grew warm. She wondered if it would feel like a mug of hot cocoa if she pressed her palms against it. Her lips lifted into a faint smile as she raised her finger, and touched the orb.

The light exploded. If instinct had not demanded she closed her eyes right before, she might have been blinded. The most horrid sensation came over her, like some vital part of herself being wrenched from her body, then snapped back like a rubber band, leaving her stomach somewhere behind. When the blotches of red faded from her eyelids, she opened them—and was no longer in the fortuneteller's house.

Her stomach churned when she saw the gaudy pink rug and smelled the pungent odor from the herbs strung up on the ceiling like gnarled hands. Molly took a step, and staggered into a bookshelf holding dusty tomes. She was in Witch Princess' hut.

The witch herself was not in sight. On the windowsill the birdcage was empty, its door gaping open. Molly's heart hammered under her ribs—_where was he? _She opened her mouth to shout his name, but the words snagged in her throat when a pair of arms folded around her. They were warm and strong, and instead of fighting against them, she leaned back and breathed in the aroma of pine trees and honey. The familiar scent calmed her stomach and mind. Two eyes dancing with sunshine smiled down at her.

"You came back for me." Luke's warm breath rustled the hair behind her ear.

"Of course I did," Molly whispered. She reached up to touch the blue bangs framing the periphery of her vision, savoring the feel of the strands like silk between her fingers, then traced the outline of the bandage on the bridge of his nose, where a secret he had shared with her rested underneath. "I would never leave you behind. Never."

He pulled her closer to him so she could feel his heart beating against her backbone. For a moment all she could think about was how she wished they could stay like this forever. No fear, no worries, just _warmth_.

Then came the roar. A lion before he delivers the final blow. Heat burnt her face and blistered her skin where Luke's arms had been. Scorching through the air was what a meteor would look like up close, but instead of an evanescent star, it was a blazing ball of flames. And it was coming straight at Molly. Somewhere from behind Luke was shouting her name, but she knew there was no escape. Right before the flames seared her chest, her ears rang with another's laughter: high, maniacal, and mad.

OoOoOoO

Owen and Chloe tried the door, but Bo knew their efforts would be in vain before their knuckles had rapped on the door. He slipped past them and to the window looking out to the farm. It took a moment for him to pick out her orange shirt against the field of crops. Bo wondered if he should be crying her name or pounding his fists like he could hear Owen and Chloe doing, but anything he would have done would have gone unnoticed. Molly never looked back. The entire rosy sky was behind her, like the background of a painting, when she started on the main path. He squinted when she took the route to town without a glance the other way. He wondered if she had been telling the truth about picking up dinner for her and Luke. Yet the way she was running made him doubt.

She ran as if her life depended on how far and fast her legs could take her. Maybe it did. She had to have a good reason to leave them like this. Or maybe this was a prank. Maybe that was why she had seemed so nervous before. Maybe when enough time had passed, and they were so bored they were banging their heads against the wall, she would them let out, saying, "Got you good, didn't I?"

Yet Bo couldn't rid the feeling there was more to it than that. He would expect a stunt like this from Luke or Owen, but not Molly. Unlike them, she was smart enough not to lock someone in her house where all her personal things were at hand for revenge. Only something serious could have motivated her to this action.

When she had went far enough he could no longer see her, Bo turned away from the window. Owen and Chloe had given up pounding on the door. Instead the miner was bent over the knob and looked as if he was…

_"Pick locking?"_ Bo raced over to him and tugged on his arm. He budged him as much as fly could budge a bear, but didn't let go. "This is _Molly's_ house! You can't just—"

"Get outta here when she locked us in?" Owen snorted. "You better believe I will. If she thinks I won't get back at her for this, she's got another thing coming. Can someone find me her nicest shoes—if she has any—and a can of SPAM?"

"I didn't know you could pick a lock," Chloe remarked, ignoring his request.

"How do you think I find the good stuff at Hayden's? Not by batting my eyelashes."

Chloe hid a laugh behind her hand, but Bo wasn't as amused.

"And what are _you_ doing?" He rounded on the girl, who was browsing a bookshelf. It looked like one of those towers of blocks where it was a gamble whether or not it would collapse when you add weight to it. Later he'll put in a word to Dale about building her a trustworthier one. In fact, for someone who was dating a carpenter, the few pieces of furniture Molly had looked secondhand. The bed was small and covered with a threadbare quilt; the lone chair in the middle of the room had a leg shorter than the rest; and the round table it was tucked into had its finish so worn down there was spots where you could touch the splintered wood; Dale would have had a stroke at the sight of it. No piece was meant for anything other than a utilitarian purpose. Bo thought back to when he had seen her farmland. All the profit she had earned had gone to the betterment of her real home, rather than the things she shared a roof with.

"Snooping," Chloe said without lifting her eyes from the bookshelf. "Molly lied about the pie in the fridge. I checked."

She tapped her chin as she perused the collection. After a moment she plucked out a volume, and giggled when she saw the cover. She held it up so Bo could see. On the front was a young man with an expression caught between exasperation and resignation, as a girl with a pointy hat sloping down her head tied her arms around his shoulders. In one hand the man held a rabbit by its ears and a wand in the other. Written at the top of the volume were three flowing W's and the title: _A Wizard's Whimsical Woes_.

"Never pegged Molly as the type to read fantasy romances." Chloe started flipping through the book. Bo opened his mouth to protest, before letting it shut with a sigh. He shoved his hands in his pockets, in case his friends' nosiness was catching, and tried not to stare at anything that might be too personal. Of course this resulted in the same phenomenon of a person looking down after someone warns them not to. His assumption that the house was devoid of personalization was proven wrong when his attention snagged on details he hadn't noticed before. The well-thumbed journal on the nightstand. The doodles of suns and rain clouds on the days of the calendar. The closet door left ajar, just enough so he could see hangers of orange shirts, beige pants, and white cotton br—he jerked his eyes away.

They landed on perhaps the most intimate decorations in the house. Hanging on the wall in hand-painted frames were three photographs. The first showed Molly, Luke, Owen, and Bo all squeezed into one mining cart that threatened to tip under their weight—only the carpenter looked to be enjoying himself. Another he recognized as one of the pictures of couples Barbara had taken and given out during last year's Firefly Festival; dressed in formal wear, Molly and Luke were sitting close together by the river, with their smiles lit up by the warm glow of the fireflies. He remembered that night well, both because he had spent the majority of it with Chloe, and the last hour dragging Luke away by his ankles.

The last photograph was dark like it had been taken in an unlit room, and it showed neither the farmer nor the carpenter, but a man whom Bo did not recognize. An olive hand blocked a corner of the picture, as if the subject had not been a willing one. The only features he could make out of the person was his almost scowling lips, grayish hair, and a golden eye that seemed to stare into the viewer's soul. Bo shuddered just looking at it.

"Is that the fortuneteller?" A voice said in his ear.

Bo whirled around. Chloe had snuck up beside him, the tip of her lip quirking up when she saw the shock written on his face. He tried to erase it, but Chloe had mercifully drawn her attention back to the photograph.

"Why would Molly have a picture of the fortuneteller?"

"I don't know. Are you sure it's even him? It could be someone she knew before she moved here."

She tapped the man's nose thoughtfully. "I met Wizard once. I'll never forget his face."

Bo balked. "You actually _met_ him? How did you get inside his house?"

"I went up to the door and opened it. Unlike my genius of a cousin—" Just then some colorful language exploded from where Owen working on the lock—"I know how to do that."

"But weren't you frightened of him?"

"Not really. Usually people are only scary if you make them out to be." Chloe tilted her head, and something in her steady gaze shone with the wisdom her young face belied. "He's actually a good guy if you can get past his speech pattern. He even read my tealeaves. Apparently I will be a professional miner and married with four children named Elisa, Kiley, Momo, and Jojo. I asked him if the last two were twins, but he wouldn't answer."

Bo would have lied if he said his interest wasn't in the least bit piqued. He was about to ask whether or not her fortune detailed her future husband, but was interrupted by a click. Their heads swerved to the doorway. Owen rose and gave a low bow.

"While you were talking about the adorable children you two would have, I have unlocked our way to freedom."

He kicked at the door with his boot, and it swung open.

OoOoOoO

The room was cast in shadows when Molly woke. The stone floor was cool against her feverish cheek. Her shirt was bundled in her fist, right above where her chest still tingled with the memory of a burning star. She drew her tongue against the palate of her mouth and tasted grains of burnt sugar. Molly groaned as she dragged herself into a sitting position. Specks of light were still floating in the crystal ball. They were fading like dying embers, the remains of the magic having been spent, and she watched as one by one they went out and the room fell into darkness.

Molly pushed back strands of sweaty hair from her forehead.

"Plan B it is."

* * *

><p><strong>Answer to last chapter's riddle: Whistle<strong>

**New riddle:**

_A pallet of paints unpaintable_

_Made from water but not soluble_

_One shape but not one hue_

_With light the paints rise anew._

**I'll admit, I'm a bit uncertain about the beginning of this chapter. I've never controlled so many characters before, and I hope Bo's point of view was clear enough. If any of you have some feedback, I'll be glad to hear it!**

**Also, if anybody is looking for another Harvest Moon story to read, I am starting a collection about Griffin and Muffy called ****_Quiet Tenderness_****, which you can find on my profile page****_. _****It will be updated weekly (maybe even daily?) once this story is finished. Please check it out if you are interested!**


	7. Arcane

**Chapter Six:**

**Arcana**

**This chapter is a lot shorter as it's more or less a filler/excuse to squeeze in some bromance/explanation of the origins of witches and wizards. There are one or two references to the Rune Factory: A Fantasy Harvest Moon series, and for the people who haven't played those games, the references ****_are_**** explained with my own take on the ideas.**

**XxTinyyxX: Your reviews never fail to keep me inspired! Thank you for being so thorough in picking out all the details you like; it helps me to know what I am doing right. You're right in thinking that the "star" is a premonition, but for what, I cannot say. ;) **

**CAPJHMPAgirl: Thank you for the lovely review! It's great to know I'm doing a good job with Bo.**

* * *

><p>To no one's surprise, it was Luke's stomach that stirred him from his stupor. Thoughts of a buffet table as long a church's aisle filled every crevice his mind until he was clutching his growling stomach. Pancakes, syrup, blueberries, coffee, worms. Mmhmm, juicy, slippery wor—<em>what?<em> No! Think about…bananas! Sweet and juicy and slimy and…crap.

Luke rolled onto his back. Eyes still closed, he pushed his bangs above his forehead; the emanating heat made his palm sweat in seconds.

"Am I birding up?" he said with a dry tongue. He had a good feeling of what his reply would be.

"That statement is…incorrect, for birding is the observation of Aves…as a recreational pastime."

The one time Luke's right, and he felt no satisfaction. He slid his eyes towards the voice. At the back of the cage Wizard sat with his legs folded underneath him. In front of him was a deck of cards splayed out on the floor.

"I was trying to do a pun. You know, a—"

"'A joke exploiting the different possible meanings of a word or the fact that there are words that sound alike but have different meanings,'" said Wizard without a single pause.

"Did you—just copy that from a _book_?"

"_New Oxford American Dictionary_…Third edition."

"Dude, you are so weird." Luke rolled his eyes upwards to the gray ceiling. He decided that when he got home, he would snatch every gray thing he sees, stick them in a piñata, and start smashing. "So what happened while I was out?" he asked as he sat up. He was relieved to find water in a bird bowl beside him. He picked it up and sloshed the water into his gaping mouth. The rivulets that dripped down his chin felt heavenly against his hot and itchy skin.

Wizard slid his cards away from the mess. "The witch stormed in…found you delirious with Fugue powder…and threw you back in the cage like a naughty rat…and with threefold the barriers." He slapped down a card. "What had been improbable before…is impossible now."

Luke wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Tiny setback. You're magical and stuff. Just talk to the animals and ask them to bust us out."

"One…we are here, in a cage…with the animals out there…. Two…I am a wizard…and not Snow White."

"You know who Snow White is, but you can't tell when someone's saying a pun?"

"The Brothers Grimm published Snow White…while my lifetime had not yet exceeded...that of a human's."

"Exceeded that…so you're _really_ old. How many greats are we talking about here, gramps?"

"I am _not_ your grandfather…" said Wizard, shooting him an icy glare that melted as his gaze drifted down. "I… do not remember the year of my birth. I cannot recall their faces…but my father… His blood carried generations of pure magic…while my mother had no more unearthly gifts…than what was already rooted in the indigenous tribe…to which she belonged."

Suddenly the white symbols on Wizard's tanned skin stood out as if they were embossed by a brand rather than paint. Luke wanted to ask what the symbols meant. Instead he said, "So you're only half-magical?"

Wizard nodded, angling his chin so his eyes caught the light and glistened like wet stones. "One to see the natural…" he pointed to his jade eye, then to the gold, "and one to see the supernatural…"

"The witch has two gold eyes, so she's full-blooded too, right?"

"Full-blooded, correct…but not fully sane. Witch Princess's time in isolation…has made her dependent on magic alone… That has been her downfall. My mother taught me how to balance my magic with other studies...astronomy, history, physics—"

"—and not people skills."

"On the contrary… I have spent decades observing humans in their natural habitats."

"What, are we monkeys or something? Oo-oo-ah-ah!" Luke scratched his armpits, and laughed when Wizard grimaced. "If you wanna know 'bout humans, why don't you get out of _your_ habitat? You can't learn that much from moldy old books."

"And you would know…how?"

"I've read books before! Like…eh…_Green Eggs and Ham_!"

Wizard gave a snort that sounded more like a sniff. Luke sniggered.

"That was the most pathetic snort the world has ever heard. And that's another thing you need to learn: how to laugh. You know, a noise that actually changes in pitch. We need to start a list for you." Luke ticked the numbers off his fingers. "One: go out and meet people. Two: learn how to laugh without making a baby cry. Three: stop confusing humans with monkeys. We don't play with our poop. Not in public, at least."

"Meet people…" Wizard scrunched up his nose, resembling a primate himself in that moment. "I have seen my kin burnt at the stake…because they had gifts they were born with. What is to say it won't happen to me?"

"You aren't crazy like the Witch. And see how she turned out from closing herself off. Maybe it was the old air that turned her loony." Luke grimaced after he sniffed a nose full of dust motes. "Anyways, you don't have to open up to the whole world. Just a few people, like my friends at Castanet. They would treat you like a celeb because of Harry Potter."

He winked and slapped Wizard on the back.

The gesture was meant to be reassuring, but Luke underestimated his brawn compared to Wizard's lack thereof, and knocked him forward. He put out his hands to steady himself, right in the middle of the painstakingly arranged cards that scattered upon impact. Wizard shot the carpenter a glare that made him grateful the birdcage was blocking magic. Instead of being turned inside out or forced to eat a dozen toads, all Luke got was a cuff on the side of his head.

The fortuneteller straightened his robes once the punishment was dealt, and, without looking at him, said. "For someone of below average intelligence…your words…hold weight."

"Did you just call me fat?"

"Never mind…" Wizard sighed. He swept his hands over the cards so they were stacked once more.

"What are those?" Luke peered at the deck. The cards were larger than those he used when playing poker with Owen. On the face of the first card was a painting of a man who was looking to the heavens without realizing he was a step away from taking the tragic shortcut to the bottom of a cliff.

"They are tarot cards…specialized for divination." The fortuneteller shuffled the deck. "You hold many opinions of witches and wizards…yet you are ignorant of their origins. Shall I enlighten you?"

Wizard placed two cards on the floor between them. **THE SUN** was written on the first and **THE WORLD** on the second. The pictures were simple and the colors pale, but like the symbols painted on the wizard's face, they spoke of buried secrets containing the power to reverberate past the boundary of time. Luke could not tear his eyes away.

"When the land was new and all creatures young, the sun touched the world for the first time. From the sun's rays materialized a man whose flesh radiated with fire but did not burn, and from the earth rose a woman whose feet did not touch the ground, but she knew the earth's secrets all the same. The two were called the Harvest King and Goddess, and, later, husband and wife. Their union gave life to the first humans, who were kin to the earth itself. Earthmates, as they were known.

For a time the world was an Eden. There was no distrust, no sorrow, and no envy. Then another being from the cosmos collided with Earth, and the people finally saw night. The Sun was drawn to the Moon's darkness the same way the Moon was drawn to his light. The two became lovers. When the Harvest Goddess discovered their tryst, she banished the Moon to the cosmos so that her pale face could only look down on the world one night a month.

However, the Moon had already borne twins. The Harvest Goddess saw the children's innocence and spared them from her wrath. But their blood ran with magic far more powerful than that of the Earthmates. Whereas the Earthmates drew their power from the world and its elements, the twins could twist time and space. They could perform feats like never conceived possible. For that the humans shunned them.

There came a time when the twins and their descendants had no choice but to recede into the cloak of shadows, where they had come to be known as…"

The last card was flipped.

"Magicians."

On the face of the card stood a man with one brown hand pointing towards the earth and the other raising a wand towards the skies, with his body trapped in between.

"With each generation the power of the earth grew weaker in humans, but the Moon's children, while few in numbers, continued to develop the arts that had casted a rift between them and the outside world. Many times the humans would hunt the Moon's children out of fear of the unknown, but eventually they thought it easier to blind themselves to their magic entirely. Now magicians fall into myths and fairytales."

Wizard outstretched his arm; the cards levitated and disappeared one after the other into his sleeve. Whatever spell had silenced Luke during the story had broken.

"That's not fair!" He slammed his fist on his knee and leaned forward. "Just because someone's different doesn't mean they should be chase off!"

"And yet your kind…has always done so…" the fortuneteller said in a voice that carried the weight of years no mortal could fathom.

And yet Luke was still looking at him with an energy that could chase even the darkest shadows away. "Not all of us. I'm here with you, aren't I?"

"You are…" Wizard said. "But only time shall tell how long you will remain so..."

* * *

><p><strong>Hold on to your hats, my friends, for there are only two chapters left (plus an epilogue!) <strong>

**Answer for the last riddle: Sunrise/sunset. **

Awesome work, XxTinyyxX!

I wrote the next riddle after reading some of Edgar Allan Poe's stories, so it's a bit on the dark side…

**New Riddle:**

_Spindly needles stitch and seam_

_A dress fit for a bride-to-be._

_Wrap her in lace, wrap her in silk,_

_Wrap her in nets as white as milk._

_Zip her dress, bind her corset,_

_Then give her the kiss of death._

_A perfect bride to be,_

_Her groom will never see._


	8. Intervention

**Chapter Seven:**

**Intervention**

"The Owen shall swear vengeance to she who tried to cage his mightiness. The Owen cannot be caged. The Owen—"

"Should stop referring to himself in third person," Chloe interjected.

The miner flexed his arms, displaying his bulging muscles. "The Owen can do whatever he likes. When we find Molly, I'm gonna give her the worst noogie in her life. That prank was pathetic."

"I'm not sure it was a prank," Bo murmured. He had been on the receiving end of enough to know when an incident like that was coincidental or purposeful, and he got the feeling from neither of Molly's stunt.

"What else could it be?" Owen asked.

"Maybe a plot." Chloe finally took her nose out of _A Wizard's Whimsical Woes_. Bo had advised against taking Molly's book. She didn't listen, and would've tripped a hundred times over on their way back to town if Bo hadn't been guiding her by the elbow.

"Think about it. Isn't it weird that she has a picture of Wizard when almost no one has seen him before? _And_ she has books about wizards." Chloe tapped the volume to demonstrate. "This isn't the only one. About a dozen more just like this are in her bookshelf."

"She likes chick books. Big deal," Owen said.

Chloe waved the volume so they were flashed with the cover of the girl whose arms were wrapped around the depressed-looking man. "Mysterious. Brooding. Handsome. All things that girls like, and Wizard applies to every one."

"You think Wizard's handsome?" Bo blurted out. Not that he cared or anything.

"Duh." She shot him a look, and then lifted a brow at Owen. "And I'm guessing so does Molly."

"Ew," the boys said in unison.

"So how does this tie into a plot?" Owen asked.

Chloe's face lit up with the same expression she got whenever she'd imagine the next grand adventure she would drag her and Bo into. Usually her giddiness was infectious enough that he would go along with little protest, but now he felt his stomach tie into knots.

"Do you really think that Molly locked us in her house just because she wanted to have dinner alone with Luke?" she continued.

Bo and Owen glanced at each other. "Uh…yeah?"

"You two have no imagination!" she huffed. "What if Molly found a way to get Luke out of the picture? Not hurt," Chloe added quickly when she noticed their horrified expressions. "Maybe just a trick to buy time."

"To do what?" Owen asked.

"Maybe run away with a certain fortuneteller."

Bo was already shaking his head. "She would never do that to Lu—"

"_That_ would explain her obsession with wizards!" Owen grinned smugly. "I totally knew that."

"Right. The heroine in Whimsical Woes locked up her friends when they tried to stop her from being with her other love interest, and I think Molly's trying to do the same thing with us. If she's following the book like I think she is, then she's on her way to meet Wizard right now."

"Then we'll stop her, and make her tell us where she's hiding Luke." Instead of frowning at the possibility of Luke's misfortune, Owen was grinning with a gleam in his eyes that matched his cousin's.

_Oh, this isn't good_… Bo thought.

"But Molly doesn't love Wizard. She loves—"

Chloe grabbed him by the arm before he could finish. "This'll be so much fun!"

OoOoOoO

Bo felt like they were in a cheesy movie where the characters tiptoe exaggeratedly through the shadows so they wouldn't be caught doing some crime, except the three of them were ducking behind bushes and trees on the outskirts of town, which he thought was completely unnecessary. None of the townsfolk were suspicious of them for anything more than skipping work…for now, at least. Chloe, however, would not be talked out of the dramatics.

"Get down!" She and Owen ducked behind a large bush, so Bo was left bewildered and looking like the lone fool. _Not to far off_, he thought dryly.

He gasped as Chloe dragged him down by his wrist. The two fit easily behind the foliage, but Owen hid as well as a bear hiding behind a pole. Fortunately the coast was clear; no one was outside roaming the streets.

"Where do you think she is?" Owen whispered, peering over the leaves.

"Over there!" They ducked their heads. Just as Chloe had predicted, they saw the door swish shut behind Molly as she slipped out of the fortuneteller's house. Hey eyes swept the area. Just like them, she found the way clear to go. They watched as she hastened through the town and up the hill towards the Garmon Mine District, shooting furtive glances behind her as she went.

Bo didn't take his eyes off the orange t-shirt. "Why do you think she's going to the Mining District? She wouldn't be looking for us since she still thinks we're trapped in her house." When he received no answer, Bo looked to his friends, and found only their footprints where they had been moments ago. When he stood up, he saw the cousins were already half way through town.

"H-hey! Wait for me!" The jacket he had taken from Molly's house caught on a branch as he jerked away. He yanked it free and hurried after his friends. _Why am I always the one left behind? _

By the time he caught up, Chloe and Owen were stooped behind the carpentry in the Garmon Mine District. "Where did she go?" Bo panted, out of breath from the run.

Chloe put one finger to her lips—_shh_—then pointed in front of her. Bo peeked around the corner. Molly was shuffling her feet on the overgrown trail that snaked behind the buildings like Mother Nature's version of an alleyway. A ferret scurried out from the underbrush and frisked around her ankles as she walked.

"Where does she think she's going?" Owen said.

"The Goddess's Spring," Bo whispered back. The trail was tucked right between the district's shops. He passed the dirt path half hidden by shrubs and pendulous branches everyday, and yet he rarely gave it a second glance. There was an unspoken but universal agreement amongst the Castanet's residents that the deity's shrine was to be left undisturbed by anyone on two feet, unless in dire times.

"I bet she's confessing her crimes to the Harvest Goddess," Owen said.

"Or maybe she's asking the goddess to bless her elopement with Wizard," Chloe added in a starry-eyed way.

"She could be on a nature walk," Bo said. He earned two withering looks in response.

Owen tapped them on the shoulders when Molly had disappeared far enough into the shadows that they could no longer glimpse her orange shirt. "Come on," he whispered over his shoulders, already going ahead. The cousins crept out from behind the carpentry and started on the trail. Bo held back. The end of his shirt was bundled in his hands from where he was pulling it. "Guys, do we have to follow her there? It's…it's sacred."

"We'll keep an eye on her from the trail," Owen called without looking back. "No goddess will smite us for that, so pull your big boy pants up and let's go."

Bo shuffled his feet. He looked up and sent a prayer to the goddess for forgiveness, then followed after his friends. Someone had to be their voice of reason, even if they rarely heeded it. His respect for Jiminy Cricket was building by the second.

The buzz of saws in the carpenter and the hammering the blacksmith faded away as soon as the buildings were behind them. The chirping insects were the only sounds left. When they had passed the first bushes bordering the trail, the insect's song turned more into a warning as low, untraceable growls rumbled in the undergrowth. Bo felt the hair on the back of his neck shoot up.

"Get back." Owen immediately pushed the kids behind him as pairs of glowing eyes leered at them from the darkness. A troop of beasts ranging from small ferrets and raccoons to a large bear materialized from the shadows. Like most people who had the wilderness as their backyards, Bo and the rest of the villagers had a mutual respect with the untamed animals to live and let live. The worst response they would get from the critters was being ignored as they dug through their garbage cans.

Never had Bo seen a hostile gathering like this. What was more confusing was that they appeared with bared for them, but had let Molly past without a single growl.

"I've got a plan," Owen said, slowly backing up. At the same time Bo and Chloe exchanged looks. "We'll need Chief, yellow paint, some of Calvin's hair, and—WHOA!"

Together Bo and Chloe shoved Owen in the back so he stumbled forward. They dove into the bushes at the same moment the pack of beasts charged. Owen scrambled to his feet just in time to miss the first set of claws. The beasts and a great deal of snarling and growling motivated him to run as fast as he could back to the houses.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" Bo asked Chloe as they stepped back onto the path. Thankfully all the animals had avoided them in favor of the meatier prey.

"He'll be fine."

"YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS!"

"Totally fine."

They followed the trail further away from civilization. The light faded fast. They quickened their pace. The undergrowth grew denser, and Bo had to pause several times to yank Molly's jacket from a pesky branch. He could not recall the exact moment that his fingers became intertwined with a smaller set of digits. Even as it became hard to see, his steps were buoyant when the fingers never slipped out of his.

Soon the trickling of water met their ears. They looked up, and an arc of stone towered in front of them, as far above their heads as the roof of a building. When they passed through it, Chloe's eyes widened, shimmering with the same awe that Bo felt tingling his body. Down a small set of stairs where small patches of grass peeked through the cracked tiles laid the remains of the Harvest Goddess's temple. Even though few of its structures remained whole, the tufts of wildflowers, ferns, and grasses overgrowing it all lent it a certain enchantment that is only earned through the passage of uncountable centuries. A hybrid of light from the receding sun and rising moon made the pond water scintillate and the fallen pillars of pale marble glow like moonstone.

About half a dozen small humanoids were dancing in pairs, their doll-like bodies so light that with each skip they took, they swayed like petals caught in the breeze. Bo remembered from the fairytale book he used to read as a little boy that they were called Harvest Sprites.

"Look." Chloe pointed to one dressed in what looked suspiciously like yellow pajamas. "We saw him before."

"I remember him. He helped me find your blue feather," Bo whispered, recalling when he had met the sprite last summer when he got stuck in a tree. And the other person he met that season was also there. Sitting in front of the bond with her head bowed, shoulders rigid, and back towards them was Molly.

"I was hoping you would appear."

Bo and Chloe froze. They held their breaths as they waited for her to turn around and catch them. She didn't move.

"I am always here if you so wish it, my dear," murmured a voice as silvery as the streams of water trickling into the pond. Chloe and Bo hid behind a broken pillar at the same moment a body of mist rose from the pond. The mist undulated upwards, slowly solidifying into a person—or, more specifically, a goddess.

Bare feet hovering just above the pond so the water rippled was none other than the Harvest Goddess herself. Her eyes were as deep as the ocean and her skin shone in the same way the stained glass depictions of her shimmered when sunlight passed through them in the chapel.

"I tried going to the Wizard but I couldn't find him, and I knew the Harvest King wouldn't help me…" Molly murmured. The rigid line of her shoulders broke as her face fell into her hands. "I don't know where else to go."

She looked like a person whose lifetime of sins was crashing down on her as she faced the pearly gate. Coming hand in hand with the sinner's repentance was the compassion on the divinity's mien. The goddess's voice was as soft as her eyes when she said "It was wise to come to me instead of my husband. He can be a bit…insensitive, at times." The Harvest Goddess gave a breathy laugh. She lifted Molly's chin with her finger so they were eye-to-eye. "Now, my champion, what is ailing you?"

"Luke's kidnapped," Molly choked out. "By the Witch Princess. We got separated in the forest when I was chasing him."

"Ah. So that is why you have sought an immortal's help. A human alone cannot combat magic such as hers."

Molly clenched her fists. "Just because I'm human does not mean I'm weak."

"That is true. You have more power than you know, my champion. But there is no shame in accepting help when it is given willingly; if anything, the fact that someone has offered it to you is proof that your deeds have made you worthy of their support."

"I'm anything but worthy." Molly jerked her head away, and a spray of tears flew from her eyes. "Don't you see? _It's my fault!_ I should've known how close we were to the swamp. I never should have let him out of my sight."

The Harvest Goddess wiped a tear that had landed on her porcelain cheek. She stared at the droplet wobbling on the tip of her finger. "Humans…" she murmured. "My husband and I have lived longer than anyone who has walked this earth, and throughout my life I have learned that _should_ equates to nothing but sorrow and pointless regret. Will you drown in _should_, or will you save the boy you love?"

This time Molly met the goddess's eyes. "Save him."

Her grin radiated with warmth and approval. "I cannot assist you directly, as my magic is still recovering from when the island was weak, but I can send help." Some subtle gesture from the Harvest Goddess halted the sprites' dance, and they left their partners to form a circle around Molly. The goddess leaned forward and whispered words that Bo and Chloe could not catch. Once she had finished her speech, she straightened, her expression solemn. "Can you carry out this task?"

Molly and the Harvest Sprites nodded. The goddess touched the teardrop still shimmering on her fingertip to the surface of the pond. A golden glow luminesced from the holy water as it integrated with the salty tear. Bo felt a warmth leak into his chest as the light dimmed as quickly as it had come. When the last traces of it had disappeared, so too had the Harvest Goddess.

OoOoOoO

Molly did not get far before Bo and Chloe came out of hiding to block her path. Different emotions swirled on her expression, but Bo spotted guilt the most. "W-w-what are you two doing here?"

"Do you love him?" Bo asked instead.

She didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Then we'll help you get him back," said Chloe.

"Absolutely not." Molly shook her head. "I don't know how much you two heard, but the Witch Princess is the last person I want you to make an enemy of. She has _real_ magic. She isn't some boss in a videogame you can beat with a few clever moves. I'm not sure that I can handle her, even with the Harvest Goddess' help."

"All the more reason we should come," Bo said. "We're small and quick. We can make a diversion while still staying out of the way"

"And Owen's strong," Chloe piped in. "He could take out the witch if she's distracted or her powers are down."

"Assuming he's not too mad at us that he won't help," Bo muttered.

"Leave that to me; I'm good at buttering him up."

Molly still looked uncertain. "Luke's already in danger. I don't want anyone else hurt because of me."

"Luke's part of our family," Chloe said.

"And so are you," Bo added. "We'll do whatever it takes to make sure everyone's safe. That's what families do." He untied the jacket from around his waist and draped it over Molly's shivering shoulders.

She clutched the zipper closed. "Family… That's something I haven't had in a long time…" Molly murmured.

"You best get used to it, 'cause now you're stuck with us." Chloe declared, wrapping her arm around Molly's waist.

"If we're all family, shouldn't you be giving something back," Bo hinted.

The girl had enough decency to blush as she took _A Whimsical Wizard's Woes_ from behind her back. "I kind of stole it from your bookcase."

"I told her not to," piped in Bo.

"It was_ after _she locked us in her house!"

Molly cracked a smile. "You can have the whole series if you want—Kathy gave it to me."

"Oh." Chloe peered up at her. "So _she_ is the one who wanted to run off with Wizard?"

"Run off with—_what?"_

Bo sighed. "I'll tell you later. First we need to make sure that Owen hasn't been mauled into kibble."

**Sorry, I couldn't think of a riddle this time! The answer to the last one, though, is "Spider."**


	9. Earthmate

**Chapter Eight:**

**Earthmate**

Luke laid on his back with his feet propped up on the bars and his hands under his head. The only reason he and the fortuneteller weren't birds was because of the racket he had made. When Witch Princess had returned from her evening forage, the spell that changed her prisoners into birds activated. Luke thought he might as well take advantage of the opportunity while he could. He had flown in circles over the grumpy Yellow Warbler's head, singing every song he had picked up from listening to the birds over the years. When Witch Princess silenced him with a spell, he switched to making the biggest ruckus he could with his beak and talon, tapping incessantly on the metal cage. His mouth was _still_ sore. Finally the witch had relented and changed him back into human form, under the condition he wouldn't make noise.

So Luke resorted to something else to occupy his time: spit bubbles.

He swished his spit around absentmindedly, and once he had gathered enough, he blew. A foamy bubble inflated between his lips. It wobbled, and Luke counted a minute and thirty-seven seconds before it popped.

"New record!" he cheered.

Wizard squinted at him from above his tarot cards. "That is disgusting…"

"Got a better idea to pass the time?"

Wizard started to speak, no doubt to suggest something like reciting the multiplication table, but a tap cut him off.

Wizard raised a brow and tilted his head to the witch. Luke looked to check she was still occupied with her brew before looking out the window where the tapping had come from. Through the wall of fog pressing against the glass Luke could've sworn he saw—No. He shook his head. That would be ridiculous.

Luke leaned back and gathered more spit. Open mouth—blow—bubble—

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

—Pop!

Luke and Wizard swerved their eyes back to the glass, and this time, they were not the only ones. "What _is_ that racket?" Witch Princess frowned as she eyed her prisoners. Luke raised his hands as if to say, _Hey, don't look at me_.

She blew back her bangs irritably. The moment she put down her spoon a knock sounded on the door. "Do squirrels do pizza-delivery out here?" Luke whispered to Wizard, who ignored him. Luke stood up and squeezed as much of his face as he could between the bars as Witch Princess stomped to the door. "I am in the middle of a swamp and I _still_ get solicitors," Witch Princess yanked it open. _"What?!"_

"H-h-hello. You're the witch, right?" said a stuttering voice that made Luke's heart skip.

"Witch _Princess_, to you."

"Even better!" chirped another voice, this one higher-pitched. By now even Wizard had gotten up to join Luke, but they couldn't see the visitors from behind the witch where she blocked the doorway.

The higher voice piped, "So are you related to the Wicked Witch of the West? You sure are ugly like her."

"You little _brat_—"

The air crackled as the witch snapped her fingers. Both prisoners tensed, waiting for a scream, but they heard only a giggle and two pairs of feet sprinting in opposite directions. The witch growled and ran after her aggravators without a glance back to the door she had left open.

"Now's our chance! We have to get out and help them!" Luke pulled on the door of the cage, growling when it wouldn't budge. The fog undulating slowly through the open doorway tantalized freedom. He strained to hear, but the fog muffled any evidence of a struggle outside.

Wizard looked at him questioningly. "'_Them'?_ You know whom Witch Princess spoke to…?"

Before Luke could answer, a certain miner barreled through the doorway.

_"Owen!" _

"The one and only," Owen smirked, striking a pose worthy of Superman. Some of the effect was lost when he banged his head on a ceiling beam. The miner, who had always been stocky, looked as out of place as a human in a hobbit's home, or in this case, a witch's hut. Luke would have laughed if it hadn't reminded of his own reduced size. Being short _sucked_.

He waved a hand through the bars. "Dude, what are you doing here?"

"Saving your butt, that's what. And I brought some friends." Owen wiggled his eyebrows as elfin creatures about the size of small dolls came alive. "Harvest Sprites," Wizard murmured with wide eyes. "I never thought I would see them…" If Luke didn't believe that Wizard was incapable of feeling anything besides boredom and annoyance, he would've thought he was amazed. "They're so tiny that they're cute, kinda like you, Wizzy."

Wizard's face-hardened. "May I remind you…that we are of the same size?"

Luke shrugged. "I'm still cuter than you."

"I smoke all of ya," Owen taunted. The sprites' colorful outfits resembled a rainbow as they slid down his arms, landing on the window ledge. They linked their hands, forming a circle around the cage. Leaping into the air, they twirled and scattered colorful sparkles over the invisible barrier. Where each sparkles landed, the barrier flashed in its corresponding color—red, blue, purple, green—until Luke had to look away from the brightness. The entire barrier lit up like a firework, and he wondered if they would explode like one, too. _Not the worst way to go,_ he decided. Fizzing sounds came from all around, and Luke looked up to see the barrier as it dissipated like a spritz of water droplets in the sun.

Owen wasted no time in picking the lock. The cage swung open, and Luke jumped into his friend's outstretched hand with Wizard two steps behind him. Instantly he groaned, his muscles stretching and his skeleton clicking and rearranging. Grinding his teeth against the pain, he noticed that Wizard showed now signs of discomfort. Show-off.

Owen drew back his hand just in time before the two men were restored to their proper sizes. He smirked at the carpenter, who was just shy of passing the miner's chin. "It's good to know that some things never change."

"Don't get too cocky. I'm still better-looking than you." Luke puffed out his chest. Yep, his muscles were just as buff as ever.

"Save your pettiness for after our escape…" Wizard rebuked, dusting off his sleeves. He was lurched back when the Harvest Sprites tugged on his coat. They were giggling like toddles as they ducked under it as if it was a tent. Wizard yanked it back with a harrumph, before remembering whom the sprites served.

He bowed low; behind him Luke and Owen were sharing shocked expressions. Who knew that Wizard could be humble? Not that they should be talking, either…

"Thank you for freeing us… guardians of the divine," Wizard said. Some of the Harvest Sprites hid their embarrassed giggles with their hands while others took a page out of the carpenter's book and puffed out their chests.

Deepening his bow, Wizard's mouth quirked up in—_amusement_. Luke almost had a heart attack. "Might you buy us time…to prepare ourselves?"

The sprites nodded. They floated down from the window ledge and flitted out the door, leaving a trail of glitter behind.

"Where are they going?" Luke asked.

"To stall the witch…" Wizard faced them. Any trace of amusement died as his face hardened. "Hurry. Arm yourselves... We may be free of the cage but we will not be leaving…the witch's domain without a fight…"

If he was fishing for a grave reaction, he was disappointed when Owen swung his hammer as if it was a golf club. "Finally some action!"

"Took the words right out of my mouth, buddy." Luke started to search but almost immediately stopped. He looked back at Wizard. "Do you really know where my axe is, or did you make it all up? That would be one sick joke."

"Hanging on the door…" _You fool__**,**_ the unspoken words resonated in the silence.

Luke turned around, and sure enough, there was his trusty axe. "Oh…"

Owen shook his head. "Once a doofus, always a doofus."

"Indeed…" Wizard murmured.

"No fair! You two can't gang up on me when Molly isn't here."

"If she was it'd be three-to-one."

Grumbling because he knew it was true, Luke grabbed his axe off the door hook. A wave of comfort washed over him when the familiar handle fit snugly in his hand. If he were still a bird he would've broken into song.

The joy elevated when he caught a flash of color from the corner of his eye. Luke turned to the doorway, where the fog was thinning. There she was. His heart soared.

_"Molly."_

She winked. "Hey there, honey-boy."

Luke fumbled to strap his axe to his belt before rushing to her. Without thinking, he moved to wrap his arms around her, but a hand gently pushed him back. "I miss you, too, Luke." She laughed, that beautiful laugh, but her eyes wandered behind her. " But let's save our reunion for when we get out of here, okay?"

"Couldn't say it better myself," Owen said, who was looking around at the hut uneasily.

Luke's shoulders sagged but he nodded, knowing she was right. When wasn't she? "Later," he said, and snuck in a peck on her cheek as a down payment. Molly couldn't hide a blush as Wizard raised an eyebrow at her.

"Keeping busy, I see…"

"Nice seeing you, too," Molly grumbled. "Let's move."

They had barely set foot outside the hut before they heard a hissing sound. "Duck!" Molly screamed. Luke did just as a fireball scorched the wall where his head had been. He looked up and saw the witch standing before them, her rage tainting her eyes a bloody red. The remnants of fog dissipated around her, giving a clear view of her hands that looked just as pearly white as ever as they held balls of fire. Suddenly Luke's axe didn't feel so reassuring.

"Going somewhere?" Her lips curled up into a cruel line. The flames flared a foot higher.

"_Stop!_ You don't have to do this, Princess!" Molly stepped forward, but Luke had winded his arms around her waist.

Witch Princess snarled. "Don't speak to me! This is your fault! I trusted you, opened my home to you, a _mortal! _And you betrayed me, as all your kind do."

Molly lurched forward, but Luke held her back, whispering quickly in her ear. "_Betrayed?"_ she growled, ignoring the carpenter. "You kidnapped my boyfriend, then had the nerve to lie about it!"

"He was coming between us!"

"The only thing that came between us was _you_!" She stopped struggling, freezing in his arms. "I came to you because I that you were just a lonely girl who needed a friend, not the monster that everyone else thought you were." She raised her chin. "I guess I was wrong."

For a second Luke saw the witch's lip tremble, and thought that maybe Molly was wrong again. Then her mouth hardened, twisting into a sneer.

"Your mistake," the witch purred. "And now you've paid the price."

_ "Luke!"_

_"Molly!"_

"HELP!"

They tore their eyes away to see Bo and Chloe swathed in a giant cocoon hanging upside down from a tree. Dangling from the branches like Christmas lights were the Harvest Sprites. Only their heads poked out of a cocoon that shook whenever they struggled. Their focus was jerked back to the witch when two fireballs were shot at them. Molly and Owen barely had time to cringe as they waited for a searing pain. A dark hand shot out in front of them. The fireballs dissipated within inches of the palm.

Wizard clenched his hand and slid it down; a staff befitting of his title appeared in his fist. He struck it thrice; each time a ring of air blew from where it hit the earth. Witch Princess growled, shooting another fireball. With a deft spin of his staff it was diffused before the heat nipped their skin.

"Free them…"Although Wizard's voice did not rise above its murmur, it possessed an authority that sent the three flying into action. As he blew a spiral of wind at the witch, Luke and Molly hurried to their captive friends with Owen covering their backs. They had to make do pulling them apart with their hands, as Luke clearly could not use his axe to cut through the bindings and neither of them had knives.

As they worked they kept track of the raging battles from the corner of their eyes. Witch Princess was shooting fireballs as if they were soccer balls, but each one dissipated as the fortuneteller spun his staff. He jutted it forward to retaliate, but there was only enough time to emit a puff of wind before nearby vines snaked from behind, coiling around his forearms and feet, jerking him to the ground.

The witch cackled. She sauntered to him, the flames casting her face in a maniacal light. He did not even flinch as she raised a fireball so close to him that the orange reflections eclipsed his eyes so they looked like tiny balls of flames themselves. The witch looked as pleased as a cat that had got its prey as she extinguished the flame with a lazy blow from the lips. She gripped his chin so they were eye to eye, one stare steady and the other wild.

"You should've sided with me instead of them," she whispered. "Them, who will be nothing but dust within decades, while we will be as youthful as we are now." She arched a brow. "Then again, your mentality is already that of an old man."

When this raised no reaction, Witch Princess's semblance of giddiness switched to a snarl. Her razor-sharp nail drew a thin line of blood from his cheek to his chin. "Filthy half-breed. Your father should've put you out of your misery as soon as he learned his wench had whelped you. Read all the books you want, mutt, but you will always be inferior to me."

She drew back her hand and ignited the flames again. Before she could strike, Wizard sucked in a gulp of air, and blew. A blast of wind shot out and slammed her back against a tree. Overriding the witch's magic with his own, ble sparks traveled from his body to the vines until they recoiled. Once again levitating, he thrust his staff back. A gale shot out from behind him, propelling his body forward so it looked like he was flying. In seconds he had reached the still-recovering Witch Princess. Before she could stagger to her feet his staff was notched under her chin.

She roared in frustration. Orange sparks flew from her fingertips as she lashed at his face. In one swift motion he had gathered up her hands and pinned them above her head, extinguishing any flames into harmless wisps of smoke. His expression was resolute as he effortlessly held her down while she thrashed.

"It is you who is inferior, witch…" he said, low and steady. "For you have lost the one quality that can rise above magic…" His emerald eye gleamed. "Your humanity."

He stepped back. As if on cue, Owen was there, cracking his knuckles. "My old man told me never to hit a girl, but he didn't say anything about hags."

One punch and the witch was out like a light. Owen snorted. "Didn't even need my hammer." As she fell forward Wizard caught her at the waist. As he laid her almost gingerly on the ground, he stumbled, and almost fell to the ground down with her. Owen caught his arm.

"I am…fine," Wizard insisted. "I simply…used too much…of my power…too quickly…"

"Maybe the witch actually brewed something useful in that hut. Why don't you check for an energy drink or something?" He poked the witch's shoulder with the tip of his boot. "I'll make sure no one wakes the baby."

"She is centuries…old and could hardly…be considered—"

"Dude, it's a metaphor."

"Ah…" His cheeks tinged red. He nodded slowly. "Yes…there should be…some potions…in the hut…"

Once the had Wizard left, Owen kept one eye on the witch and the other on Molly and Luke, who had just freed the last of their friends.

_Maybe Luke should've worried less about the witch and more about Chloe and Bo,_ Molly thought as she watched the children tackle the carpenter from both sides of him. "I can't believe you went on an adventure without me!" Chloe cried as she hugged him with one hand and smacked him on the chest with the other.

"Don't you ever make me worry like that again, mister!" whimpered Bo.

"Are you—_crying_?" Luke exclaimed with a bemused look.

"No!" He hid his face in the older boy's shirt.

"He totally is," Chloe pulled away so she could pat the boy's shuddering shoulders.

Luke's grin was huge when he picked up Bo and swung him around in the air as if he was a toddler rather than the pre-teen he was. "G'aww, I missed you, little man!"

"I'm not a little man!" Bo sobbed with a babyish face that said different. Luke set him down, rustling his hair.

"Whatever you say, little man."

Molly smiled at the scene. The fear in her chest had begun to ebb away now that Luke was alive and lacking a chest full of feathers. Still…a part of her was still not at ease. She bit her lip, waiting for the final proof that everything was going to be all right.

Then it came. Luke looked up, and their eyes met, gold on amber. All her worries melted away. The playful look he had while swinging his brother was gone, and replaced with a slack jaw and awed gaze, as if he had seen the ocean after a lifetime in the desert.

This didn't escape Chloe's notice. As always, she tugged Bo by the sleeve, but this time with gentleness that was subtle enough that neither Luke nor Molly noticed. Bo sniffed, looking up from where he was attached to the hip by Luke and then to Molly, who was for once just as speechless as the carpenter. Another tug, and he let himself be dragged away by Chloe.

Luke did not speak as he stepped towards her, never taking his eyes away. It felt like hours, thousands of heartbeats, before he stood before her. Then he pulled her to his chest, sinking her into his soft cotton shirt and the scent of pine trees and honey.

"You came back for me." He whispered in a throaty, warm breath against her ear. Five words, and yet they carried the weight of the world.

"Of course I did," she murmured into his chest. She reached up to touch the blue bangs framing the periphery of her vision, savoring the feel of the strands like silk between her fingers, before tracing the outline of the bandage on the bridge of his nose, where a secret he had shared with her was hidden underneath. "I would never leave you behind. Never."

He pulled her close so she could feel his heart beating against her backbone. Her eyes fell shut. For a moment all the thoughts cleared from her mind like dusty cobwebs. She wished they could stay like this forever. No fear, no worries, just _warmth_.

Then came the roar. A lion before he delivers the final blow.

Molly's eyes snapped open just in time to see the Witch Princess standing before them, an unconscious Owen sprawled at her feet. Luke gasped, crying out for his fallen friend, but the witch's hate-filled eyes were fixed on Molly. She laughed, high, manical, and mad, while her hands cradled a fireball as big as a globe.

The second after the fire flew off her fingers, a volley of pebbles struck Witch Princess from where Chloe and Bo had been hiding. Her surprise bought them enough time for Wizard to rush forward on a column of wind. The air around him mimicked his gestures as he brought his hands together in a wide arc then clapped them, knocking the witch from both sides with a gale. The wind had barely let up before the Harvest Sprites were leaping around her, spinning thin magic strings that quickly accumulated until she was immobilized in a glowing cocoon. Then Wizard was there, blowing blue sparks in her face. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she fell back, but rather than hit the ground, she was levitating a foot in the air. All this happened within seconds, but it was still too late.

Molly felt like she was in a vacuum. Luke's shouts sounded as if they were coming from underwater. The fireball was shooting towards her in slow motion so she could see the flames curl as it sliced through the air. Then something knocked her to the ground, returning time to normal.

As if she had broken the surface of the water, Luke's cry was amplified, her eyes ringing with the howling note. _"Luke!"_ she screamed, as he slammed into the dirt.

By the time she reached him and pulled his head on her lap, his face was scrunched up, sheening with sweat. Her hands struggled to pry his grip away from his chest. When she finally broke his hold, she expected to find a gaping, singed hole in his shirt, but it had not even a stain. Her fear was split into shock. Her shaky fingers undid the buttons. His bare chest was smooth outside of a thin layer of hair. She could not find a pink mark or blemish. There's no burn. Why isn't there a burn?" she mumbled to nobody.

And yet someone answered. "There is one…but not on the skin…"

Only then did Molly sense the fortuneteller standing behind her. "I d-d-don't understand," she stuttered, refusing to take her eyes off of Luke. Her tears blurred his features, but she could still make out the pain contorting his face.

"The fire Witch Princess summoned was not an average fire…but Rune's Inferno. A very strong spell…"

"I don't care about the spell!" she screeched. "You're a wizard! Help him!" she begged, cradling Luke's head in her lap.

"I have not the power. But you do."

Finally she looked up. In the background she could see the blurry figures of Bo anxiously wringing the hem of his shirt and Chloe helping the stunned but conscious Owen sit up. Somehow Wizard was crystal clear, staring at her with the most intense gaze that would've made even her look away is she wasn't pleading to him for a miracle.

"I told you before your bond with nature is strong." He canted his head in an almost teasing way. "Why do you think both a barren farm and a dying island came alive under your touch? You are an Earthmate. One of the rare descendants of the Harvest Goddess whose veins still run thick with her magic."

The words bounced around in her head, too cryptic and otherworldly for her to decipher anything besides, perhaps, the most important truth: "I can save him?"

Wizard nodded, pride shaping his lips into a tiny smile. "Lay your hands over his chest…and draw the witch's venom out of him…"

She can feel his skin burning when she touched him. Breathing out, she closed her eyes, imagining the heat focused into a roiling ball under the layer of skin. She pictured it rising to her palms like steam and Luke moaned as she slowly, slowly, lifted her hands. Her shoulders slumped forward as he exhaled, two symbols of relief. When Molly opened her eyes the ball of fire was cradled in her palms, tamed as candlelight. Rather than burning, it felt comfortably warm in her hands as she was holding them near a fireplace. She closed her hands over the light. A wisp of smoke curled up when she opened them.

Luke sat up, blinking at her with a dazed expression. She held her breath. Then, out of all things, he grinned. One that was all teeth and dimples and shining eyes—and perfectly _Luke_. "I guess I'm still the damsel in distress, huh?"

Molly laughed even as tears streaked down her face. His thumb wiped away a drop. She leaned into his touch until their noses were brushing. "Still you," she whispered. Neither cared nor even noticed that all their friends were watching when she closed the distance between them with a kiss.

**YAY! All that's left is the epilogue, which ****_should_**** be posted soon!**


	10. Ripples

**So…this was supposed to be about a page and a half AT MOST, but then I really got into it and…congratulations, you have a full-length chapter to read! I promise the next update will be the epilogue (which will only be a few paragraphs, but still.)**

**Also, I know this is terrible to say, but please excuse any mistakes! I REALLY wanted to post this tonight, but could only comb through the chapters once! Again, sorry, but if you catch anything then please write tell me in a review and I'll be sure to fix it! Thank you!**

**Chapter Nine:**

**Ripples**

The Harvest Sprites skipped across the pond, creating ripples with their steps. Their mistress suppressed a giggle with a hand to her lips. "I see you have returned in fine spirits, my pets." The sprites danced around her before frolicking back to the relics of the temple where they often played.

The Harvest Goddess lifted her head. The white platter of the moon's reflection in the water lay beneath her feet, an actualization of Aphrodite rising on a seashell. "And you?" She smiled." I trust your quest succeeded?"

"Yes. Your plan worked better than I had hoped." Molly returned the smile, only for the goddess' to fall. Her fathomless eyes seemed to search the depths of Molly's. The farmer wondered how far down the goddess could see.

Enough for her lips to purse in disappointment. "And yet sadness still lingers. Has your heart not been returned to you?"

"My heart—?" Molly shook her head when the meaning of the words registered. "Luke is fine. Owen and Bo took him to the clinic to make sure there weren't any side effects from the witch's spell. He made up some crazy story about army ants attacking or something so his dad wouldn't worry. He'll be spending time with him tonight to make sure he doesn't get suspicious since Luke was gone all day."

"I am sure his father would be grateful for the company. Too high is his pride to admit the many nights he spends alone, staring at a picture of what can no longer be and forgetting what can." The Harvest Goddess waved a hand, brushing away the subject. "But enough of that. What became of Witch Princess?"

Molly's hand tightened in her lap. She sighed and called over her shoulder. "It's time, Wizard."

Slowly the fortuneteller emerged from the shadows of the temple's entrance. He was wearing his usual indifferent expression, but this time the mask had cracks, and Molly caught anxiety slipping through. Since Molly had seen him at the rescue, she thought that something was different about him, more than the newfound fluency of his speech. Like something inside of him was melting.

He lowered his hood and bowed deeply with one hand in front of him and the other behind. "Your Holiness."

The goddess nodded respectfully. She must have seen through the cracks in his facade as well. When she raised her head and saw that his was still inclined, she folded her hands in front of her. "Your humbleness is appreciated, but your humility is unneeded. I have learned long ago the foolishness in pinning the sins of the father onto the son." Her eyes danced with mischief. "Especially when the father is so near."

Molly was cut off from asking if she was missing something when a dark cloud rumbling with thunder appeared in the sky overhead that had been clear seconds ago. The Harvest Goddess smiled when they looked up uneasily. "Oh, don't mind him. My husband can be a bit cranky at times." Another rumble. She ignored it and beckoned to Wizard.

"Come."

He rose and levitated towards them, the soles of his feet grazing grass. Coming into sight from behind him was Witch Princess, supine and slumbering as she floated a few feet in the air. Wizard stood to the left of Molly, folding his hands behind his back. The witch came to hover in the gap he had left between him and Molly. She gulped. The witch lay so still it was difficult to remember that she was unconscious rather than dead. The Harvest Goddess beckoned again, and the witch's body drifted to her, hovering over the water. The deity gazed down at her sleeping face. "Tut-tut, so much wasted potential," she murmured, caressing the back of her hand against the witch's cheek.

"What will you do with her?" Molly blurted out. She bit her lip. What happened to the witch was of no concern to her. _She deserved whatever she got_, Molly thought, pushing away the twinge of her worry in her chest.

"She has broken one of our most sacred laws," the Harvest Goddess declared. "She used her powers to threaten lives that are already far too fragile. Her punishment must be severe."

"Show mercy, Your Holiness."

Molly caught the flash of shock on Wizard's face before he managed to recompose it back into its detached mask. Only the goddess seemed unsurprised. "You esteem her worthy of it?"

Wizard hesitated. Then he said in a steady, matter-of-fact tone, "Witch Princess has made many unwise decisions, the most recent one being her choice to jeopardize myself, the carpenter Luke, and all those she involved thereafter. She struck out, in a mad fury against the world. And yet…in a way…I understand."

Molly gaped, confounded. "You_ do?"_

Wizard met her eyes and nodded. Turning back to the goddess, he said, "While Your Holiness' discrimination of Magicians has lifted the same could not be said for many humans. We have been shunned and forced into hiding at the slightest suspicion of abnormality. Scars like these do not fade so quickly in the minds of the eternal."

The goddess' brow furrowed in the first mark of sternness. "You believe the witch was justified in her retaliation?"

"No," Wizard affirmed. "Hate only breeds hate, and violence more violence. The liability for her actions is hers alone. This I do not refute. However, I have studied how a human mind will unhinge after enough time without social interaction. A magician living in isolation, whether he or she is full or half blooded, would have an exponentially longer amount of time than a human to become crazed. For longer than I have walked this earth the Witch Princess has lived isolated, which has slowly driven her mad.

Desperate for some interaction, she leeched onto Molly after they first met, and continued to do so during their visits. When Molly met me, a fellow magician, the witch became jealous and perceived me as competition for the one maintaining her sanity. It is the reason she held me captive, as well as Luke after he entered a relationship with Molly. Witch Princess' craving for attention had blinded her to the inevitable repercussion when Molly learned of the witch's crimes and chose Luke over her.

As evident by Witch Princess' erratic behavior during the rescue, this revelation was the final straw to her derangement."

"_I_ did this?" Molly asked, feeling aghast.

Wizard shook his head. "With or without you it was only a matter of time before her mind snapped."

She shook her head. "It sounds like you're giving her an insanity defense."

"Not giving," he corrected, but without the clipped tone he usually used. "Simply drawing attention to a factor that should be taken into account. It just as easily could have been me whose mind slowly unraveled, if I had not decided to study the humans of Harmonica Town in their natural habitat."

"Luke's right. You really should stop putting _humans_ and _natural habitat_ in the same sentence," Molly remarked with a teasing smile. Then her brow furrowed. "Earlier you said that Magicians are discriminated by_ many _humans. You never said _all_ of us."

"So I did." The corner of his lip twitched. "Unlike Witch Princess, who had isolated herself from all outside contact, I have lived amongst humans for some time now. Perhaps it is my mother's blood to blame for my penchant of observing humans, albeit from afar, but I have noticed changes in them too subtle for anyone besides one present for decades to perceive. They have become kinder, more open-minded than they were in my early years. The humans I have met recently are not so quick to judge even that they do not fully understand. I have witnessed this more now than ever." He glanced at Molly from the corner of his eyes, and she knew he was thinking of Luke, Owen, and their cousins. "This evidence supports the possibility that perhaps humans have matured enough to acknowledge our kind. Not everywhere or in every heart, but enough that Magicians may know another option other than living in solitudes does exist.

Wizard's eyes fell on Witch Princess for the first time since he arrived at the shrine. Moon rays made her ivory skin glimmer while sleep smoothed out the harshness that normally hardened her face. She looked like a princess in a fairytale, waiting to be awoken by her true love. Except she was loved by no one.

"A life of immortality…" he whispered with a wistful expression, "…leaves ample space for improvement."

"And mistakes," Molly warned.

"Indeed… Is it a chance worth taking?" he murmured half to himself.

"What do you suggest, magician?" The Harvest Goddess inquired.

Wizard dragged his gaze away from the witch to meet hers. "Wash away her past, the stains of her rage and madness, and let her begin anew in another land."

"And what of her magic? I cannot unleash one with immeasurable power and no knowledge of how to control it."

"Repress it. Allow her magic and the knowledge of how to use it only return once she had done enough good to be worthy of the responsibility. Perhaps she will appreciate humans more if she begins life with no more magic than one.

For a moment the Harvest Goddess said nothing, weighing the proposition in her mind. Then she turned to Molly. "You have been unusually silent, my dear. What say you?"

Molly hesitated. Were they really placing the witch's fate in her hands? Her blood still boiled when she thought of Luke almost dying in her arms. She wouldn't think twice about showing Witch Princess what she could do with an axe if she so much as _looked_ at him.

Despite it all, she still felt the sympathy that had allured her to the witch in the first place. She remembered the ache in her heart when she first met her, all fire and smoke to cover up the fact she had an eternal life with no one to share it with. Molly could still remember all too well the loneliness that seemed to swallow her up after her parents died and she was forced to move away from all she had known. It wasn't until she had met Luke—or, more precisely, until Luke was caught practically stalking her—when things began to change. She smiled at the memory of strong arms shielding her from the sorrow and warm whispers promising her that she'd never have to be alone again. She had found other open arms to both support and lean into through Owen, Chloe, Bo and Kathy. All of them had given her a new life, a second chance.

But would she really help the witch have the same? After all she had done, not just to her and Luke, but to everyone else they cared about? She wished Luke were here now. He was the one who had been hurt the most.

On their way back to town she had told him everything: what happened after he was kidnapped, her relationship with both Wizard and Witch Princess, and how she had recruited the Harvest Goddess' help to rescue him. With the amount of questions he had asked and the time it took for him to share his own half of the story, it wasn't until they were at the clinic when she offered him the last truth: she and Wizard would be taking the witch to the Harvest Goddess' shrine for judgment. He was surprisingly quiet as his eyes bored holes into the hospital cot he was perched on. His face was an open book as always, but what she read confused her more than ever. There wasn't hate or revenge or even satisfaction but…pity.

"I thought I'd feel better that I'm getting payback, like people do in videogames, but I don't." He shrugged, giving a halfhearted smile. "I guess I'm not so good at revenge, huh?"

Right then she wanted to kiss him.

Molly looked down at the pond, still unsure. Just then the tips of the witch's hair grazed the water and sent a ripple across its surface.

"I was given a second chance. Seems like as good a time as any to return the favor."

The Harvest Goddess' expression turned grave. "The crimes she has committed are punishable by death._ Dura lex, sed lex."_

Wizard and Molly froze, unable to look away from the witch who looked already drained of life. Then the deity smiled softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Then again, I _am_ a goddess."

She placed her hands over the witch. She lowered them slowly, and Witch Princess sunk in accordance until her body was submerged in the water. Wizard placed a hand on Molly's shoulder when she gasped and lurched forward. "She will not drown."

Mist streamed from the goddess' palms and poured into the water. Circling around the witch, the ribbons of mist smoothed her short outfit into a flowing white gown that left her shoulders bare. A wave of the goddess' hand, and a cloud pillowed the witch's head. Her silvery hair softened to cascade in gentle curls down her back.

Witch Princess gasped, a cluster of bubbles wobbling to the surface. Her eyes shot open, two miniature fires underwater. The fiery colors were doused when threads of mist swirled into them, dampening and transmuting their color. Her body relaxed. When her eyelids fluttered shut the irises were a blue as pale as crystal. She floated to the surface.

"It is done," Harvest Goddess announced. "All ties to her past has been cut. The woman before you has no recollection of Witch Princess. She is free to start anew."

Wizard inclined his head. "Thank you. Few are fortunate enough to have such a chance."

Words of gratitude or of any other kind were caught in Molly's throat. Her eyes were fixed at the person who was first her friend and later her foe. Now she was a stranger, as ethereal and unreachable as the Lady of Shallot. Her stomach churned in a mixture of horror and relief. Suddenly the mist that had been undulating underwater rose up, shrouding the reborn witch.

"Wh-what's happening to her?" Molly stammered, finding her voice. She reached out and would've fallen into the pond if Wizard hadn't pulled her back by the shirt.

"I am sending her to another land," the goddess answered as the mist and the woman slowly dissipated as one. "Someplace where people's hearts are open and she can learn as much from them as they from her."

Wizard waved his hand and white roses appeared woven in the slumbering woman's silver hair. _"Ave atque vale."_

"Hail and farewell," Molly translated.

He blinked, looking very similar to an owl with his widened luminescent eyes. "You are familiar with Catullus?"

"No, but I am familiar with _The Mortal Instruments_.(*)"

He blinked and Molly sighed, this time patting him on the back. "Remind me to never lend you any of Chloe's books."

She could've sworn his cheeks were a dark red as he fussed with his coat. As it became harder to distinguish mist from woman, Molly combed a way to say goodbye. But what was the point when the person was already gone?

"Good luck…wherever you go," Molly settled on as the last of the particles were blown away with a flap of the Harvest Goddess' wings.

Wizard placed a hand over his chest in salute, bowing low to the Harvest Goddess. "If you are ever in need, I am at your disposable, my lady"

The goddess curtsied, her wings flapping open like a butterfly's. "And if _you_ are ever in need, my shrine shall be open."

Wizard smiled. Such a small change, just a curl of the lips, and yet it breathed life into a face that had been a statue for more years than Molly could count. She thought he would look rather handsome if he only smiled more. "Thank you. I believe I will be conducting further research on the changes in humans of this time period. Perhaps my assimilation will yield more in-depth results."

"Then I wish you good fortune for your new lifestyle."

Wizard nodded to Molly before lifting his hood. Suddenly a tornado rushed around him. It lasted only a moment, but long enough to tangle Molly's hair into a mess that would make Finn drop like a fly at the sight of it. "Show off. " She kicked the grass where Wizard had stood seconds ago. She turned around and waved over her shoulder. "Thanks. See you later, goddess."

She had taken only three steps before a delicate "ahem" made her turn around again.

The Harvest Goddess had shifted her formal stance and was sitting on thin air with her legs crossed and a finger tapping her chin, one eyebrow arched almost saucily. "I thought you would have learned by now how fruitless it is to keep secrets from a goddess. What else troubles you, my darling?"

Molly frowned and crossed her arms, knowing it would be useless to protest. "You always knew I was an Earthmate, didn't you?"

"I did."

"And you didn't think I should know?"

The second eyebrow followed the first. "If I had told you, would you have credited your achievements from your own resourcefulness or your supernatural ability?"

Molly thought the goddess looked a little too much like her mother had when she asked a question she already knew the answer to but wanted her to figure it out for herself. Just like she would have with her mother, Molly tried to guess the lesson she was being taught, mulling over the goddess' words again.

Ever since saving Luke she had been trying not to think about her newfound powers and how they would change her life. Perhaps the Harvest Goddess or Wizard could teach her how to use her gifts. Would that mean she had to keep her powers a secret and go into hiding like them? No, Wizard had just said, albeit in his cryptic way, that he no longer needed to isolate himself from the villagers. After all, Luke already knew. So did Owen, Chloe, and Bo. To them she was still just Molly, the woman who had enough spunk to go up against a carpenter in a lumber competition and the courage to rescue her friends from a mad witch. She may have some magic of her own, but it must be subtler than not if it was only unmistakable in a life-and-death situation. In the end she was still Molly, and that was all that mattered.

"You're saying I don't need magic to succeed." The farmer smirked, proud that she had unraveled the goddess' teachings.

The Harvest Goddess smiled in approval. She batted her wings, spraying Molly's skin with a cool mist and the scent of the ocean.

"Witch Princess had always depended on her magic and Wizard his knowledge. This dependency acted as their crutch. Their battle would have raged on until both had succumbed to exhaustion, for while neither would admit it, their powers were evenly matched. What had tipped the scales were their spirits. While Witch Princess had lost her humanity, you and your friends reminded Wizard of his, as his behavior tonight has shown us. The kindness he has been shown has given him a reason to hope again. _That_ is the difference.

I chose you to save my home and my people because I know how strong, how _compassionate_ you are, Molly. Not because of any supernatural powers."

"That coming from a goddess." Molly shook her head and laughed. The rejuvenating breaths of cool night air that filled her lungs made her skin tingle. She looked up at the tapestry of stars and the luminous moon above her, linking her to Luke and Wizard and even Witch Princess' reincarnation, wherever her new life had begun. A wave of certainty washed over her. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so at peace. She didn't know if it was from the Harvest Goddess' presence or being in her holy place or something else entirely, but she knew that if she and Luke had withstood every challenge they had faced so far, both apart and together, then they could handle whatever else came their way.

"Thank you," she breathed, looking back at the goddess. "For everything."

The Harvest Goddess rose. "You are a remarkable woman, my champion. I look forward to seeing your future accomplishments. 'Till then…" Her form slowly faded away like the mist at sunrise until the only thing left was a whisper as gentle as breeze. "…Cherish the happiness you have earned."

**Extra points go to whoever guesses Witch Princess' new identity! Here's a hint: think of Rune Factory…**

**(*) _The Mortal Instruments_, a series by Cassandra Clare. The latin phrases in this chapter are real, but these books I used as a reference. No laughing allowed, people!**


	11. Epilogue: Coming Out

**Epilogue**

**Coming Out**

Night had just fallen. The world was silent as the villagers scurried into their homes with promises of warmth to keep the frigid weather at bay. Not a soul was in sight this evening…a perfect night to cause a stir.

The door to the fortuneteller's house opened, and a hooded man stepped out. He raised his hand, supine, and an orange firework shot up and burst in the sky. The silence was suddenly filled with opening doors and surprised mumbles as villagers crept out of their homes to investigate. Those still lingering inside were lured out as two children holding sparklers over their heads tore through the streets, shouting "Hurry up! It's about to begin!"

Three figures appeared from the shadows next to the man. The first figure moved to stand beside him. Luke cupped his hands around his mouth, calling out, "Ladies and gentlemen!"

The second figure stepped forward. By now all eyes were focused on the elevated platform as Owen declared, "May we introduce to you…"

"…the fortuneteller that all have heard of but few have seen…" Molly announced.

"WIZARD!" They shouted in unison.

A column of wind appeared under the man and spun him high into the air. The audience gasped as he landed lightly on the roof, the edges of his coat fluttering. He lowered his hood. The streetlamps casted enough light so all could see the timeless face and the shock of white hair of the recluse of Castanet himself. Wizard crossed his arms. His multi-colored eyes gleamed like a cat's as he leveled them on his captured audience.

His voice rang out into the night, unnaturally amplified.

"I have long since hid from you all under the guise of a fortuneteller, but that is a mere shadow of my identity. With the hopes to start anew and become a true part of your society, this evening I will give a performance. Be warned. While I vow none shall be harmed, the truth can be more difficult to swallow than the lies. All of which you see tonight is real. No tricks, illusions, or ruses of other kind…but magic."

He clapped his hands over his head and a fountain of water drops sparkling every color of the rainbow were showered over the audience. Theirs gasps turned to laughter as they leaned back their heads. Wizard gave a grand bow.

"May the show begin…"

**Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou all for the lovely reviews and being such great readers, especially to those who have not just followed me on this story, but on a ****_The Thousand Lumber Bet_**** AND this one! It has been the utmost pleasure writing for all of you! If you would like to read more of my Harvest Moon fanfictions, there are several one-shots and a new(ish) story about Griffin and Muffy called "Quiet Tenderness." Check it out if you'd like! Again, thank you all so much for making this fanfic-journey with me!**

**Lastly, congratulations to those who guessed correctly that Witch Princesses' new identity is Sharron from the first Rune Factory!**


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